The Tshirt incident: Retaliation & Escalation
by Pika-la-Cynique
Summary: Sequel to 'the T-shirt Incident' fic and the 'Jareth's Tshirt' pic. Goading the Goblin King into a twitching fury is the sort of dangerous idea that can get a girl into very, very hot water indeed... Utterly JxS. EDIT 11-08: PART DEUX begins at last!
1. Chapter 1

_Author's notes: _Ah, this was far too much fun. Is v. bad for my schoolwork.

OK, to keep up with the story so far. First is the picture "**Sarah's T-shirt"** on my DevArt account. (link in my bio)

That pissed off Jareth, and next thing you know, it's **The t-shirt incident, **my first story here; at the end of that one Sarah is a leeetle upset and ticked off... and retaliates by "**Jareth's T-shirt**" (DevArt picture.)

This picks up after Jareth receives his little gift from Sarah (and presumably does his nut) . (Oh, and I just beg for suspension of disbelief in regards to Sarah Fed-Exing a parcel to the Underground, mmkay?)

For a sequel to a one-shot, this sure got long-winded. Thanks to Anij for the beta.

Rated for language and Jareth being very suggestive.

**Disclaimer** : _is all a work of fanfiction. I own none of the characters from Labyrinth, though by now I reckon they owe me rent on my brainspace._

**--- The T-shirt incident : Retaliation and Escalation --- **

It was dusk on the campus grounds as a young girl stepped out of the brightly lit student hall, pulling the backdoor shut behind her. A vagrant breeze picked up loose strands of dark hair as she stood still and warily looked around. The evening air was mild and pleasant, but still she shivered slightly as she scanned the silhouetted branches of the trees across the road very carefully.

It had been a beautifully sunny late spring day. Yet for some reason, Sarah Williams felt like a major thunderstorm was brewing. If she'd lived in Kansas she'd have been bolting the cellar doors by now. Even that was probably pointless. She had been tense and jumpy, and her hair—only hers, she'd noticed, looking around her classroom—crackled with static electricity. The lead of her mechanical pencil had broken off twelve times in a one-hour lecture, and if she hadn't have switched to her Biro, she was pretty sure it would have made thirteen. Her roommate's hamster had fled to the furthest corner of its cage each time she came near.

Sarah was perfectly capable of picking up a subtle hint. She knew trouble with a capital J was approaching, and she knew exactly why.

It was the when that was making her edgy.

Eventually, she relaxed her tight grip on the doorknob. There was no suspicious white shadow in the trees tonight; the only encounters she'd have to worry about crossing the park were the usual drunken frat boys, muggers, and rapists. With a small sigh of relief, she set down her book bag and turned around to lock the door behind her.

…The remarkable thing about owl flight, as any nature show will tell you, is that it is almost completely silent.

The _bang_ of displaced air as a barn owl turned into a tall, glowering Goblin King in full black regalia and a very foul mood not two feet behind her, however, she did hear, and with a yelp she spun around faster than she'd believed to be possible. She took an immediate step away from him on sheer reflex, her back slamming up against the door.

Jareth slowly lowered gloved hands that had been heading straight for her neck. Two pink spots on his cheeks burned in his pale, angular face, and his features were strained as he glared furiously at her. His shock of pale hair seemed to be standing up on end more than ever.

He looked **hopping** mad, and in spite of her heart pounding in the sudden fright of his appearance, part of Sarah laughed and laughed and laughed

_Oh, that worked, all right__…_

"Sssssssssarah…." He hissed from between tightly clenched teeth, keeping his hands by his sides with obvious effort. "Are you familiar with the term _lèse-majesté_…?!"

"Jaaaa-reth", she mocked, sticking her chin out. "Are you familiar with the expression, 'payback, **Bitch!**'…?"

He drew a short, sharp breath, and his eyes narrowed in a look that would probably have combusted wood at short range. Sarah, however, appeared quite unimpressed. She went on, flippantly. "I'm sorry, was it not the right size?"

His left eye twitched. "I've declared **wars** for less!!" he spat out.

Coolly, Sarah set her hands on her hips, and deliberately mimicked his usual arrogant stance. "I'm not surprised. You've always struck me as the temper tantrum sort, and over-dramatic at that," she replied disdainfully. She cocked an insolent eyebrow at him. "Tell me, did you throw a wobbly back when I beat you, Your Majesty? Did you have a hissy fit and smash some furniture?"

For a moment, for one surreal, blessed moment, Jareth was actually speechless with fury, goggling at her. Sarah smiled blissfully. His expression of inarticulate, spluttering rage was something she would remember and treasure for the rest of her life.

_Which now __probably amounts to about fifteen seconds._

Jareth made a very visible and not entirely successful effort to regain some manner of composure, drawing in a long, hissing breath. When he spoke again his voice was an icy threat, and there was murder in his eyes. "You are still displaying that **critical** lack in judgement, little girl."

The chilling effect he intended was spoiled just a tad by how his fingers were twitching uncontrollably by his sides.

Riding an adrenaline high, she tossed her hair carelessly, and smirked at him – and Sarah had learnt smirk from the best. "The t-shirt was hardly judgement. It only says the truth, Goblin King. Deal." Her voice hardened slightly, as she went on, mocking. "…Truth hurts, does it?"

_Touché_. His hands were clenched into fists all right now. "Forget the Bog, you'd poison it. I ought to have you hung, drawn and quartered," he snarled.

"I ought to charge you for the postage fees," she countered lightly, not missing a beat. "Do you know how much it cost me to send that to the Underground?"

"Oh, it's going to - cost - you all right," he bit off slowly from between locked jaws. If he hadn't been wearing gloves, Sarah would've seen Jareth's knuckles white with the strain of holding back from enacting the very appealing fantasies he was currently entertaining of wrapping his hands tightly around her neck and shaking her senseless. Sarah wasn't the only one with a vivid imagination.

Sarah was well aware of the murderous vibes coming her way, but gaily ignored them. _Party on the Titanic! _She was on a roll. "Really, Jareth. You took great pains to explain how very generous you'd been and looking back I saw how true it was - you've given me such **wonderfu**l gifts, after all," she drawled sardonically. "A snake. The poisoned peach. A few near-death experiences. And then just recently, my delightfully improved t-shirt." She went wide-eyed in affected candour. "There I was, like you said, always demanding, and never saying thank you. I thought it was only fair that I give you something in return."

He stared at her flintily. "You shouldn't have." His voice was flat and at sub-zero temperatures.

She raised an eyebrow at him again. "Oh, really?" she taunted, drawing on all her memories of his infuriating sneer. It felt like suicide - but it also felt _damn_ good. Her lips twitched as she tried not to dissolve into nervous giggles. Being faced with certain death was wonderfully liberating. She crossed her arms on her sweatshirt, and her voice turned serious. "Maybe you're right. I should've kept it simpler. 'Utter bastard' would've suited nicely. Or, no, wait," her eyes were challenging, "how about just 'Loser'?..."

The proverbial thin ice under her snapped, as so did the last thread of Jareth's self-restraint. With a sound somewhere between a scalded cat and a toad being stepped on, he exploded into movement, lunging towards her. His black leather-clad hands grabbed her halfway between her shoulders and her throat, violently bearing her backwards. She'd been almost expecting something of the sort however, and as he slammed her against the door her knee jerked up.

Even infuriated and taken by surprise, he was too fast for her. Moving sharply backwards, he half-dodged, half-blocked the kick by trapping her leg between his. His fingers dug painfully into the flesh just above her collarbone. She swung her right hand around sharply to slap him. Again he reacted with cat-like speed, releasing her throat to capture both her wrists and pinning them either side of her, level with her face.

_Not so sure that's an improvement._

The top of his body pressed down on her, and he gave a loud angry hiss close to her ear before drawing back to glare at her.

He looked furious, but also indignant. "You dare?!" he growled threateningly - with just a tiny, minuscule, barely-there hint of a squawk in it.

"This time, you bet." Breath half knocked out of her, Sarah gave him a tight, defiant grin.

Her satisfaction at having taken her best shot at one of her life's dearest ambitions, and consequences go hang was short-lived, however. It was uncomfortably and rapidly dawning on her that the drawback of having one leg between his, just inches from damaging the royal ego was that he, in the same position, now had one leg between hers.

Jareth very quickly pressed both his advantage and his hip against her. Keeping her knee firmly captive, he leaned in, pushing her up slightly so that part of her weight now rested on his thigh. Sarah clenched her teeth so as not to gasp, and willed herself to ignore the feeling of pressure between her legs, and how his whole body now trapped her against the door.

_Shit_.

_Bastard._

There was a moment's tense stillness as they traded stares, both breathing hard, their faces inches apart.

Jareth was still furious, though some measure of dark satisfaction was beginning to show on his sharp features. "You were saying…?"

_Ask yourself__, Sarah… do you really want that 15 extra special offer on coffin nails?_

"You did lose," she pointed out brightly.

Jareth's jaw clenched briefly; but then he closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, before giving her a cold smile.

"That was only round one, princess." He moved his face in towards hers, and his lips brushed up along her jaw line, making her gasp and jerk her head back. He reached her ear and whispered darkly. "As you just said - _this time_…" his tongue flicked at her earlobe, and she gasped again, "…is different." He briefly bit the flesh of her earlobe - not that hard, but he had sharp teeth. "Remember?"

- _I'd rather try doing things __**to**__ you_… _**This**__ time,_ _**I **__won't be the one who ends up exhausted and begging. -_

Apprehension and something else entirely made Sarah's pulse quicken.

_Like there was any way I was going to be forgetting that._

She tried to squirm away from the touch of his lips, but any movement she made only made her more blushingly aware of the distracting pressure between her legs. She was all too conscious of growing unnervingly warm all over, feeling his chest rise and fall against hers, her wrists still tightly pinned against the door as his teeth continued to tease at her ear and nape, and the worse part was that she was angrily certain he knew it.

Looking away from him, frantically seeking anything to take her mind off what he was doing, she realised fully exactly what sort of picture they were presenting to anyone who might pass by. The thought sent a hot jolt through her stomach, but also gave her a straw to grasp at.

"We're not in your Labyrinth, Jareth. There are people here, I'll scream for help," she threatened.

He raised his head to look at her, and meeting his burning gaze made her heart lurch wildly. His eyes were dark with anger still - and a vicious amusement, as well as an ill-concealed hunger that both scared and fired her. "Not so brave, Sarah…" he sneered. "Try raising your voice, sweetheart, and I'll stop up that poison-spouting mouth of yours the same way I did last time," he told her harshly. His hot gaze drifted over her upturned face to her lips, trembling slightly, just inches away from his, and he smiled like a shark. "Hell, I'll do that anyway."

Hypnotized by his eyes, Sarah didn't even think to move. A rush of shock and physical reaction shook her as his mouth came baring down hard on hers. She would've gasped but he swallowed the sound and immediately his tongue forced passage through her parted lips, aggressively taking possession of her mouth. His body gathered up beneath them, pushing her back into the door as his face pressed down on hers, tongue thrusting deeply and punishing.

He tasted like the ozone smell of summer lightning. Her head spun. Her blood was pounding deafeningly in her ears, her neck ached from the strain, and her lips were numb as he relentlessly ravaged her mouth. She couldn't remember breathing. She felt like some electric, liquid heat was coursing crazily through her body, to and from her abused mouth, and where his hip was pressed insistently against her crotch. Her heart was beating fit to burst.

At last, after one last sharp push downwards against her that made her whole body shudder, he released her mouth and drew back a little. He scrutinized her flushed face with dark vindication, as she panted, eyes closed. She was trembling and limp, and he could feel the heat of her against his thigh. Jareth's own eyes were feverish, but he forced himself to keep a tight control over how his body was responding to hers. _I'll show you payback, _he thought to himself. He had altered his tense, hungry expression to a cold smirk by the time she opened her eyes to glare at him, furious but deeply troubled.

"Scream now, if you can," he told her mockingly. "But even if you bawl your lungs out, Sarah dearest, there's not going to be any rescue for you."

Still dizzy, lips bruised and tingling, Sarah swallowed, trying to catch her breath. _OK. Nice recovery, you bastard._

She was concentrating very hard on being outraged and hating him - _and not on having just been kissed breathless and quivering and still being pressed hotly against the Goblin King's firm black-clad thigh… _

_S__top thinking about that right now!_

She tugged at her hands where he gripped her. "Let me go," she demanded.

"No." He bared his teeth in a grin - sort of - and ran his tongue over his lips. " … Now are you going to apologise?" He bent his head to bring his mouth close to the side of her neck, and touched it with the lightest, tantalizing breath of a kiss, making her shiver uncontrollably. "Or I'll make you very, very sorry indeed," he went on in low, deliberate tones.

Gritting her teeth, Sarah managed to pull herself together somewhat and ignore how he had just made her stomach flutter. "Not going to happen, Jareth," she declared loudly. "Neither the apology nor… whatever you're thinking."

He chuckled, rich and sinful as chocolate, mouth still teasingly close to her ear. "You can't possibly begin to imagine what I'm thinking, Sarah," he growled in a seductive threat, shifting his body against hers again.

She bit down a gasp. "I think I can guess at the general thrust," she answered in a slightly strained, sarcastic voice.

"Can you now? …" A look of wicked delight danced on his strange features, his mismatched eyes glittering with mischief as he looked at her. Sarah couldn't help blushing.

_Importan__t note to self_, she thought urgently. _Remember, this is Jareth - he could make 'pass the salt' sound suggestive in that damned velvet, pervert voice of his, so for God's sake, don't go making things easier for him!! … _

_Oh__, yeah, and also do try to remember you hate him, right?_

Jareth grinned wolfishly down at her, still bodily pressing her against the door. He bent his face suddenly to run his tongue across her bruised lips in one swift, startling movement – almost before she could register it his voice was whispering hotly in her ear again, as his soft hair brushed her face.

"Ah… So, once again I shall have to try to…measure up to your expectations, shall I?"

Sarah felt herself blushing further, even as she groaned and rolled her eyes. _The man's already sexual harassment incarnate in tight leggings without doing anything, he just tried to eat my face, and now has me trapped between the door and a hard place - _as severalparts of her body were telling her in no uncertain terms_ - the blatant innuendo is __**so**__ unnecessary._

There was a particularly devilish gleam in his eye for an instant, and then it was hidden from her as he lowered his lips to hers again. This time he merely applied a soft, lingering, warm pressure on her closed mouth, inviting and frustrating and mockingly chaste. Her chest tightened and closing her eyes she battled the alarmingly strong urge to open up and welcome his nerve-wracking invasion once again, and worse, desperately kiss him back…

His gloved hands shifted at her wrists. She was surprised to feel them loosening their grip, pausing for a moment and causing a small strange tingle, then slowly moving down the inside of her arms in a soft, open-handed caress, fingers lingering in her palm. It was a stunningly tender gesture, and her breath caught in her throat.

_- __wait a minute_ –

Her eyes flew open as she pulled at her wrists, and she immediately saw the smirk on his face. He winked provokingly at her. Grinning, he lazily laid one hand at her waist, gently tugging her towards him, and brought the other up, with a small mocking flourish before her face, to run through her hair. Her wrists were still trapped and immobile. There wasn't any feeling of restraint or a binding round them; she simply could not budge her hands from where they touched the wood of the door, as if they were glued to the spot. Fury mingled with a touch of panic shot through her._ He's tricked me __**again**__, the Fae bastard_!

"Oh, you lousy, cheating, son of a bitch," she spluttered indignantly. "That's not fair!"

"Not fair on whom?" His voice was cool and he eyed her critically, though he still looked vastly pleased with himself, his right hand playing with her hair. "Those 'average jerks' who've tried to feel you up before?"

She opened her mouth to protest, and then shut it. _Well, yes,_ part of her wanted to point out sulkily. _I mean…I'm perfectly happy to be pinned up against the wall and snogged senseless, but this is just not—Wait…did I really just think that? _ "Cheating Fae bastard," she muttered.

His eyes narrowed briefly, and she wondered at the expression that flashed across his face - was that…what…jealousy? annoyance?...but then almost immediately he was smirking at her again.

"I'm not cheating; I'm in a whole other league. In many respects," he told her firmly, and there was a touch of steel, and more than a hint of attractive danger behind the cocky declaration.

Keeping his eyes on hers with a heated intensity and that non-human _focus_ that she found both hypnotizing and near impossible to withstand, which set her heart to pounding again, he moved both hands to rest on her hips. Her stomach flipped. With tantalizing slowness, he slipped his fingers under her sweatshirt and over her bare skin to rest, warm and excruciatingly present, in the small of her back. He stood there motionless for a moment, holding her against him almost casually, and pointedly watched her suddenly remember to breathe, his lips slowly stretching in an arrogant smirk. It had taken all her self-control not to squirm into his touch. "You **said** you had high standards," he leaned in towards her. "…I hopelessly outclass the competition, Sarah," he growled close to her ear in a rough tone of utter confidence and dark promise, and the reading on Sarah's mental innuendo meter shot off the chart again.

She gulped, and then managed to make a scoffing sound. "Oh, yeah, for the biggest di-- _**fat**_head!!"

_Shit!_ She was blushing again and hating herself.

She felt him smile widely against the side of her face, and he drew back to look at her with a raised eyebrow. "Sarah, dearest, that impudent mouth of yours is going to get you into very, very hot water some day. **Don't** provoke me." There were strange undercurrents to the amusement in his voice. Then he positively leered, tightening his hold on her and pulling her hips close against him. "But then again, in case you were wondering…"

"NO! Let me go, you randy bastard!" Sarah was getting far too much information from her lower body than she wanted to know or was quite sure she could handle right then.

He chuckled darkly, and relaxed his embrace on her a little, grinning. "No? I have a recent and rather enjoyable memory of you requesting that I make my efforts to woo you more…" he very slightly shifted his hip against her and his voice dropped to a taunting murmur, "…tangible."

Sarah inhaled sharply as his movement sent renewed warmth flooding through her. She was trying very hard to ignore how very noticeably tangible, in fact, downright poking, he was being right then and there. "… And _I_ have a recent and entirely detestable memory of you using that against me," she growled. As in, at the bar, kissing her silly and leaving her gulping open-mouthed and foolish like a stranded and very pissed-off fish. "I'm not falling for that one again." _Even though I just did… No, I mean it!_

His fingers danced a little ways up her back. "What… don't you enjoy me against you?" he teased in the same velvet voice.

Every cell in her body wordlessly clamoured _YES, _but she angrily ignored the hormonal insurrection. "No! Back off, Your Royal Tightness," she snapped.

A low, genuine laugh. "You were saying something just a minute ago about dealing with the truth, Sarah…"

"Yes, well, judging by your reaction you obviously didn't take well to it, so we can forget that approach…"

"How considerate of you," he commented almost pleasantly. He cocked his head to one side, mismatched eyes glinting. "However, if we're going to discuss reactions, perhaps we could find more interesting ones to investigate. Or better yet…" he grinned ferociously, and moved his hands up under her shirt, round from her back to the beginning of her ribcage, then stroking down to rest the tip of his gloved fingers on her hips, She gasped, quivering under the feather-light, teasing caress. "…experiment with…"

_No, no, no and __**no**_, she raged mentally, damned if she was going to let him smugly play his games with her again, visible effects or no. Scowling at him, and cursing her treacherous body, she strained on her tiptoes to push as far away from him as she could, digging her shoulder blades into the door behind her. She succeeded in gaining all of half an inch between them.

"… Sorry, but I don't intend to indulge your curiosity, Goblin King!" she said angrily. She tugged ineffectively at her immobilized wrists again. "Let me **go**!"

"Why? Too scared of what we might find out? What you're desperately trying to hide from me?" He leaned his face in towards her, nullifying all her efforts to scoot back. He looked down at her, his expression in the growing evening darkness dangerously confident. "Such as the fact that you're enjoying every minute of this, Sarah, and that you don't want me to stop touching you…- " His voice felt like an intrusive, intimate caress.

" - I want you to **let – me – go**," she hissed forcefully. She was breathing hard, glaring at him, anger and the effect of his words both flushing her face.

"You should've stopped that sentence after the first three words," he said critically, eyes dancing.

"Jareth!" Her voice rose sharply in frustration. "Shut **up** and--"

"Kiss me."

"**What?**!" she stammered, thrown.

"You heard." His smile was challenging now, and his gaze was intent. "If you want me to release your hands, stop trying to fuse with the door and kiss me – **properly **- and…I'll think about it."

She stared up at him, seething with helpless frustration and resentment and dearly wishing she could have another shot at kneeing him. _Trust him to turn the tables on me, the bastard._ She clenched her teeth. "That's a piss-poor guarantee, Jareth."

"Live dangerously. It's what you've been doing so far." His dry tone was belied by the hungry anticipation in his eyes.

Scowling and detesting him, Sarah still couldn't help her eyes from wandering to his mouth. It had been a week since he'd turned up to taunt, kiss, and humiliate her at the bar, and though she'd been pencil-snapping furious at him since, the week had also felt like a very long and boring time without his lips on hers. Which, of course, only made her angrier.

Kissing him… _I do want to_, she had to admit to herself bitterly, _badly_, _but encouraging him right now feels like such a bad idea for so many reasons. _Still, he had a point - she'd been acting on a lot of bad ideas until this point, which had landed her in her current predicament in the first place.

_Predicament? Just say fantasy and give up the fight, why don't you_ an unwelcome inner voice suggested, sounding disturbingly like him. She exhaled sharply. _If there ever was a case of 'screwed if I do…'_

She glared back up at him, eyes flashing defiance and resolution, and as his smile began to widen, lunged in to plant her lips on his. _Insufferable, smug, manipulative bastard,_ she thought viciously, as she seized his lower lip between her teeth, and tugged and he willingly bent his head to meet her open, hot mouth.

She thrilled with anger, danger, and lust and her tongue attacked his recklessly, giving him everything she'd got. As a long-term survival strategy it was probably a very bad idea, but she'd decided to wipe that smug expression of his face, even if just for a few seconds and on his self-serving terms. _Yeah, right…excuses, excuses,_ the same shrewd voice said. _Shut up and kiss him,_ she ordered herself. And she did, with wild abandon and relish, dropping all her reserves, except for the one hot kernel of defiance and purpose firing her.

He had simply let her rage against him at first, obviously amused, but he was beginning to respond to her passion. His tongue met with hers, and his hands tightened round her waist. She kissed him with all the fire she possessed, and his own smouldering lust flared up in response. It was a hot, tumbling, mindless, exhilarating tiger-ride of a kiss, and she felt his pulse quicken, to say nothing of what was going on lower down. When she heard him make a low, animal sound in the back of his throat, she dragged her wildly spinning mind back to reality and with a final rush of exaltation surging in her chest, shook her head and tore her mouth away from his. She bit her lip to regain control, her breath short, and intently watched him come back to his senses.

A few seconds passed before Jareth slowly opened mismatched eyes that were dark with desire, his face inches from hers. He sucked in a long, deep breath, almost as if stealing it from her mouth, but was otherwise utterly motionless. For one still, vibrant, intense moment that stretched on and on in silence but for her pounding heart, there was no antagonism, no thought of vindication or resentment; there was nothing else to the world but his nerve-searing _presence_, the taste of him lingering on her lips, his mesmerizing gaze caught in her own, and endless glowing possibilities.

Then he blinked and breathed out, and, masking the naked desire on his face, leaned back and smirked at her. His expression had turned self-satisfied and leering, and right then she truly hated him.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" The tone was jeering, but his voice was a little rough nevertheless.

She eyed him coldly. _Go on and bluster, you overstuffed owl, but you just got owned._ She felt strangely calmer after that whirlwind kiss, and more confident. "Jareth, we are not going to even begin to discuss what's **hard** here," she said cattily.

A painted eyebrow swept up archly. "What can I say? You bring out the worst in me, Sarah." His mocking was almost gentle, in spite of the suggestive grin on his face. He gave a loud sigh, and, wrapping one arm around her waist, he leaned in towards her, bringing his free hand up to cup her chin. The embrace was warm, firm and possessive. He gazed into her eyes and she could see the very real desire still burning there, behind the taunting. It sent a small secret thrill through her. He went on in a murmur.

"For instance, now that I do think about it, I have absolutely no inclination whatsoever to release you or give you the slightest chance of getting even an inch away…" He sighed again, shaking his head, causing his pale hair to brush against her face. "But if I give you any grounds to, you'll start whining that _it's not fair_ again and sticking out that delicious lower lip of yours in a pout, and then I'm really not sure I could be held accountable for my acts."

He smiled then, still teasing but also warm. "And it was a **nice **kiss, Sarah." Tipping her chin to him, he pressed his lips down on her in a swift kiss of his own. Then, with another put-upon sigh, not releasing his hold on her waist, he brushed his other hand down her throat, and up along her arm, to tap a forefinger sharply against the door near her wrist.

When she tried to move her hands away from the wood this time, there was a feeling of resistance, like moving through thick treacle, that rapidly thinned to just a gossamer tickle of a spider thread she easily tore through. Before she could fully appreciate her arms being freed, his nearby hand had caught her wrist again in a warm, firm grip. His other arm around her waist still kept her close against him. With her one free hand she shoved at him ineffectively. He didn't budge, and she was still bodily trapped up against the door.

The Goblin King gave her a perfectly relaxed grin. "We're not done here, however. I'm not going to be **that **generous."

Sarah counted to ten in her head and then carefully decided, in the light of recent events, against trying to slap him again. With an aggravated hiss, she leaned her head back to stare at him critically.

"So." It was her turn to sigh irritably. And then with resignation, but also an edge of provocation to her voice, "Now what do I have to do to make you leave?"


	2. Chapter 2

The obvious, reckless challenge made his eyes flash with something powerful, that she couldn't define but that made both her heart and her stomach clench, and his hold on her tightened briefly Then he tilted his head to give her a long, probing stare, his expression guarded, though not bothering to hide a touch of genuine curiosity. He purposefully drew out the moment, making her mind squirm just as her body had at his touch, his mouth stretching into a suggestive grin as the tension grew and all the potential of her words hung in the air.

_OK, never play poker opposite this guy_, part of her mind noted wryly. _And definitely not the strip variety… Oh shi--Right. Very carefully NOT imagining that._

The rest of her thoughts were just sort of going round her head like headless chickens, squawking at her in panic and disbelief and spaced-out on the hormonal overload.

Still, she withstood his stare coolly.

The situation was strangely deja-vu, the same small, observing part of Sarah realised. It was rather like when he had confronted her in the tunnels in his Labyrinth, and her nervous, defiant bluff in response to his teasing as he had leaned dauntingly over her, all smirk and tight pants. _So, Sarah. How are you enjoying my harassing you?_ The general look of the scene may have been similar, but the rating had definitely shot up, and 'suggestive' was fast disappearing in the rear-view mirror. Also, somehow she didn't think he'd be involving the Cleaners this time.

"Still living dangerously, Sarah…" he eventually whispered. His tone was fraught with complex emotions –amused and taunting and breathily suggestive as ever, as well as being tense with restraint and almost, oddly, tender. He looked at her for a moment longer, his expression quite unreadable.

Then, unaccountably, he unhanded her, and moving a little step away, removed his leg from between hers. The change in sensation made Sarah gasp again. She looked up at him, face flushed, her arms held by her sides warily, not understanding. There was a grin on his face again, that looked somehow a little self-deprecating for a moment. He was still leaning on his elbow against the door just above her, and now the situation really was just like it had been five years ago. _Bar the hormones._ He looked intently into her eyes

. "…_Say your right words, the goblins said_…" he told her in a taunting sing-song.

She frowned. His expression was baffling, the grin still in place, and his eyes gleaming strangely with nothing she could define. He looked very much the fascinating, mysterious adversary of her previous adventure and not like the… well, **man**, for lack of a better word, who had reacted to her snogging him a few minutes ago.

"The right words…?"

_If he still means to make me say sorry, he can take a flying jump off his damn Castle__, and without turning into an owl, either._

But no, she was forgetting her own story… Before she could think too hard about it (-_ "Why? Scared of what we might find out?" -_ ), she screwed her eyes shut, and loudly declared: "I wish the Goblin King would disappear from my doorstep right now!!"

Silence. Eyes tightly shut, holding her breath; Sarah heard nothing but her own heart beating, and insects chirping in the evening air.

Then with a jolt of shock, she felt a gloved finger tipping up her chin and opened her eyes to meet a mismatched gaze that glittered with amusement.

Before he could read on her face the rush of complicated emotions she felt, and that she was unnervingly uncertain of, Sarah angrily slapped his hand away, glaring at him.

"Why didn't that work!?" she demanded hotly, embarrassed and mad at him.

He smirked. "You didn't mean it."

Her jaw dropped, than snapped up. "NOW you take that into account?!" she strangled out, furiously. "You bastard." He was grinning in obvious enjoyment. "…And I **did**!" she added hurriedly. "What's said is said!"

Jareth pushed away from the door, to stand with arms folded opposite her, a full two-foot between them now. He took on an overdone pained, wide-eyed expression. "But I can't," he said in a whining, mock plaintive voice. "Don't you understand that I can't?"

His cruel imitation of her stung. She wasn't liking this game. "Jareth," she growled. "Go back to your castle and play with yourself."

"And forget about your warms lips parting so deliciously under mine?" His eyes glinted with realms of mischief. "I don't suppose you're even going to offer me a gift, then, are you? Show me my dreams? Fulfil my fantasies?" he leered.

"Fuck. Off." she bit out.

"What a pity."

He sighed, and seemed to diminish a little, hunching his shoulders, and looking away from her. She stared in stunned disbelief at him as he took a small, slow step backwards. _Is he actually giving up?_ she wondered incredulously - and was disgusted at herself for feeling - yes - disappointed. Before she could properly stamp out that heretic notion to make way for a reign of righteous gladness, he shot a dark sideways glance at her from under his fringe of pale hair. His face was shadowed, teeth glinting in a very goblin-like grin. He looked an utterly gleeful and devious Puck and all her thoughts instantly gave up the argument to scream _Trouble!_

"So." He brought a gloved finger up to his lips and rested his chin in his hand, thoughtfully, his eyes glittering maliciously at her. "What to do with my thirteen hours?"

In her mind Sarah heard a juddering, grating sound of things going very wrong. "Thirteen hours--**what?" **she stammered. "Why would you-- What for-- You didn't…" She mentally replayed the last part of the conversation. Granted, he'd twisted the exchange so that she spoke his lines, but… _No way._

He folded his arms and grinned at her, feral. "I take up the challenge, Sarah."

"No!" she almost wailed in frustration. "I never issued a challenge - and anyway, I said the words, not you!"

An upswept eyebrow rose. "Ah. You wished me away, then?"

With a rush of panic, Sarah tried to think fast - she had the distinct feeling a loophole was being leisurely drawn around her neck. He looked far too damned pleased with himself.

_Dumb, Sarah!! __Why the hell did I let him goad me into speaking the words!??_

"What are you trying to pull, Jareth?" she demanded with far more angry scorn than she felt.

He went on provokingly, in an unhurried, pleasant tone. "Same as last time - your wish comes with a thirteen-hour reneging period." He smiled solicitously "You do remember, of course…? You have thirteen hours to go back on what you said…while I try my best to persuade you otherwise." His grin widened nastily.

_Not good__, not taking, NOT HAPPENING. Not again!_

"I have to un-wish you away? Why would I do that?" she asked frantically. The old thirteen hour line had caused her a cold sweat, and flustered her badly. "And hang on," she felt a headache coming on, "why would you want to stop me from retracting it this time?"

He smirked. "Oh, I don't. But surely you'd hate me to win by default?" he taunted.

She shook her head, fists clenched, and lips tight. "Uh-uh, no, you won't get me that way." He wasn't going to provoke her into any further stupid moves.

He looked at her with infuriating, condescending confidence. "Makes no difference, actually. You just wished me away…to myself." He stood there, black cloak fluttering slightly, arms crossed, a smirk on his angular features, looking just like he had at their first encounter. An utterly magnificent bastard. The Goblin King.

"The thirteen hour prescription time is still in effect, either way. And unless you challenge the wish granter - me - and then set out to rescue the wish's victim - me again - …which I somehow doubt…" his lip curled slightly, "Both of me are held to stick around the wisher-away - you - for the next thirteen hours until the wish goes off, of sorts." He grinned at her gaping at him in confused frustration and mounting despair. "Do try and keep up, Sarah."

Sarah's mind was reeling. Things had indeed gone completely pear-shaped.She was stuck with him for the next thirteen hours? Unless she went back and ran the Labyrinth again and – and failed it, because winning meant she didn't wish him away - and failing meant he won and she was trapped… She felt like screaming. "I don't believe it," she said. Looked at him standing there, black glitter and magic and arrogance. "It can't work like that… I have no power over **you**."

His lips twisted. "Now, that's a turn-up for the books," he muttered wryly. He gave her a dark, amused look. "Not to any great or damaging extent, no, not anymore, but as far as your wish is concerned, what's said is said, and is binding. What a pity," he teased.

"You… You twisted… This is surreal. I can't believe I'm still getting bitten in the ass by your crazy fairytale rules!" she exclaimed. He just looked at her, with hungry, taunting eyes.

_The Goblin King. Thirteen hours__. … This could be so much worse, right? Yeah. Right_.

"Don't you have a kingdom to run, babies to steal, new make-up to try on, or something?? Have you nothing better to do with your time than hassle me?!" she demanded wildly.

His hot gaze had in no way relented, and he licked his lips. She couldn't prevent herself from shivering. "Most certainly nothing I'd enjoy more," he answered, grinning smugly.

She let out an explosive breath and rolled her eyes. "I swear you're making up the rules as you go along," she threw exasperatedly at him.

His cocked eyebrow and quizzical, amused expression clearly said he didn't see that as a problem. "Of course. It's my game. And so much more fun." He lingered on the last word and Sarah could practically feel it on her skin. _Jerk._

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "This is crazy. I don't have to play along with this." She aggrievedly threw her hands up in the air. "Fine. You think you're benched for thirteen hours. Whatever." She glared at him and waved vaguely at the park behind them. "There's a café, and nightclub over there. Go have fun. Do the magic dance. The hell away from here."

She turned pointedly away, reaching for the doorknob. In a blink, he'd grabbed her outstretched hand and spun her around, pulling her close against him. His expression and tone were dangerous. "**Don't **think you can dismiss me like that. By now you ought to have learned to deal with wishes having consequences, Sarah." His other hand snaked swiftly under her shirt and up her back, making her shudder as he pulled her close again. "You made a wish, and I'm that consequence, and pet…" his voice turned to a growl and the look in his eyes was knee-weakening. "You are going. To have to. Deal. With me."

Sarah's brain hiccupped, and her insides simultaneously froze and melted into a hot liquid pool low in her belly.

She stared at him. "If you think you are getting thirteen hours of -- …" His predatory grin told her quite clearly that was exactly what he thought, and then some. "You are out of your glitter-addled mind!" she exclaimed, somehow sounding a little shrill.

He felt very warm against her chest. He looked impatient, even with the taunting amusement still ghosting in his eyes. "No. I know my mind very well, Sarah," he told her meaningfully. "You're the one trying to deceive yourself here. To return to the touchy issue of honesty, I'll be **extremely** generous, and forgive you the t-shirt…" his eyes narrowed, "if you admit in turn that yours, after my little alteration, also says the truth."

'_I want the Goblin King_.' Sarah's thoughts, which had been rather incoherent and unavailable for commentary on the latest development, focused jarringly. The mention of the t-shirt was a sharp reminder of their last encounter, and her anger at him.

Every time her hormones had taken over and she'd let down her guard, he'd tricked and ridiculed her. He took obvious, vindictive pleasure in toying with her body, her mind, her fee-- She couldn't give him that sort of power over her. She couldn't.

She struggled out of his grasp. He wouldn't release her wrist, though, and frowned at her as she pulled at his hand, glaring at him.

"No fucking way, Jareth."

His grip tightened and he pulled her back slightly, not back against him but enough to prove to her that he was unnervingly stronger than her. "Oh, **yes**, Sarah," he breathed out, low and intent and unrelenting. "Thirteen hours gives us time to try many ways…"

"**Stop** it!" she interrupted in a loud tone of disgust, a bit rattled. She yanked at her wrist angrily and with slight desperation.

"Stop denying you want it," he retorted almost as sharply. They traded furious glares for an instant, then he let go of her hand.

Sarah rallied. "Oh, yeah. **Right**. Because I just dream about being stalked, half-strangled, leered over and groped at on my very doorstep by an overblown, fantastical character from a fairytale who is a sore loser - and an arrogant, obnoxious, manipulative, cheating, egotistical bastard who's now trying to **screw** me with some weak Cinderella clause he just pulled out of his ass!" she ranted at him, sarcastic and irate. "What girl wouldn't!?"

His eyes narrowed. "Yes, as a matter of fact, you do," he told her snippily. He was frowning, but his lips twitched. "Do you really want me to prove it to you?" With a flourish of his wrist, a crystal ball appeared at his fingertips before her face, and he coolly looked over it at her.

Sarah's eyes widened in panic. "Oh, hell, not those again…" She backed away from the shimmering orb.

He smiled wickedly, and began to play with the crystal, flicking it back and forth over the back and palm of his hand in the hypnotizing way she remembered. His eyes didn't leave hers, intent and provoking. "Why so nervous, Sarah? It's a crystal, nothing more…" he taunted. "Don't you want to see your dreams? Because that is what it shows **me.** And besides being rather delightful and entertaining things of themselves, Sarah, your dreams are also, quite unlike you, utterly honest. For instance, about what you **want**..."

He abruptly stilled the weaving dance of the crystal orb and held it up between them. He raised an eyebrow at her, taunting, and then with a faint, serpent smile tugging at his lips, he casually looked into it himself.

Her heart lurched. _Not fair. Pervert. Voyeur. __**Bastard**_. The words were jostling at her lips but she didn't say anything. She stared at the crystal, in horrified, thrilled fascination.

There seemed to be definitely flesh-toned movement in its shifting depths.

And pale blond hair.

And...

_O__h my god._

Sarah was mortified.

He lifted his gaze from whatever he was seeing, and it was dark and dancing with desire and amusement and triumph when he met her frozen stare. "You do dream of all that… and much, much more, Sarah," he told her, and somehow his voice both cracked like a whip and caressed like silk bed sheets. A flick of his fingers and the damnably revealing crystal was gone. He looked at her with hot eyes. "As I may have once said…" he mocked softly, "…not an ordinary girl."

Sarah felt utterly embarrassed, violated and vulnerable, and the strange, seductive harmonics on his last words further disarmed her and messed with her nerves. "…So what? I thought you were through with offering me my dreams," she countered weakly.

"I'm not. I'm confronting them." He crossed his arms and smirked at her. "I always was much more than your, admittedly, creative imagination made me out to be." His eyes glinted viciously, and his grin showed teeth. "Reality is bigger and better, sweetheart."

She winced. "…Reality? You're - from a story. You're not real," she said hesitantly, feeling the lie awkward in her mouth.

"Don't bother pretending to believe that," he told her sharply.

She couldn't, even if she had wanted to.

"…_Why_?" she asked in a harassed, slightly desperate tone. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why not?" he countered, his eyes teasing.

Parts of her mind agreed with him. _Yeah, really, Sarah? Why not?_

"That's not an answer!" she said in exasperation.

He looked at her coolly. "I'm not in an answering mood. And anyway, you know very well why, Sarah. …Because I can, and I want to," he mouthed with relish. His eyes narrowed. "And so do you."

"…You… I don't **trust **you," she exclaimed, a hitch in her voice.

His gaze was scorching. "I called you a liar, not stupid. And you love not trusting me," he taunted, "when I've caught hold of you and you quiver in anticipation… When you wonder wildly what else I'm going to do to you, what else I am going to **dare** do to you, and you don't trust **yourself** not to moan and whimper and wriggle against-…"

"**Shut up!**!" she cried out, half raising her hands to her ears. He sardonically obliged, and just stared at her with hot, hungry eyes, and a mocking smile on his parted lips…which were really just as eloquent and she blushed, furious and flustered and very uncomfortable.

She stared defensively back at him, biting her lip. The thought came as an odd, ironic echo: _I can't… it's not that I don't appreciate what you're…planning to do to me, but…_

She looked away, not wanting him to see the painful emotion she feared might show in her eyes, and took a deep breath.

"You just want to humiliate me. You just want revenge." She tried to sound dismissive but her voice was tense.

_Truth does hurt_.

She thought maybe she heard his breath catch. Then he roughly grabbed her shoulders and pulled her towards him. "No," he said firmly, in a low, hot breath, his face very close; and then he was kissing her. His lips were warm and needy and forceful on hers, and his hands bunched in her hair as he held her face to his. Taking a step forwards he had pushed her back against the door again, not releasing her mouth. Her hands rose, hesitantly, unsure of wanting to push him away or to touch him; but she held back, digging her fingernails into her palms, as his hot tongue slipped in past her lips and warmth flooded through her once more, and her heart twisted. _I do dream of this… Of being able to believe this…_

He kissed her deeply, but with restraint and none of the violence of before, and she could feel the tension practically humming under his skin. Eventually, he slowly pulled away, and looked at her intently. His eyes were dark and ironic, and he smiled a strange twisted smile. "Not just."

Sarah stared uncertainly back at him, mellowed by the kiss and unable to protest or deny his frankness. _Oh._

He sighed lightly, and deposited a swift kiss high on her cheek. "There. That's a truth you can deal with." He pulled his hands away through her hair, watching the last few strands slip through his gloved fingers with a strangely absorbed expression. Then abruptly he stood back and crossed his arms, scowling at her. "And here's another hard truth for you, Sarah," he announced in an exasperated tone. "You **do** desire me, just as much and as irrationally as I do you and more than you might fear or doubt or hate me…" His voice, which had warmed and complicated, turned sharp and impatient again, "…but you're just stubbornly digging your heels in and denying it because being the aggravating bitch that you are, you refuse to let me win!" He glowered, with nostrils flared, and breathed out in a huff, as she gaped slightly at him. "That 'my will is as strong as yours' thing is getting really old," he added irritably.

She blinked. _Well,_ an inner voice commented wryly, _the goblin's out of the bag now, isn't it?_

"I--" She shut up. Then "Win? But you **cheat**," she said indignantly.

"And so is that one," he muttered. He scowled at her. "Cheating or not - and by the way, you still have no basis to judge my acts by - the bottom line and the crux of the matter is that I'm right and **I win**."

"Win what?!" she exclaimed loudly. "What, are you really expecting me at this point to just give in and throw myself into your arms and beg you to sweep me away to your castle and your bed??"

_Sarah__, shut up!!_ part of her warned frantically, seeing Jareth's eyes darken and his fingers flex.

He seemed to radiate heat, though his tone was deceptively dry and taunting. "It would be a good start. We never did get to the part where you offer me **my** dreams."

She snorted loudly. "Go dunk your head in the Bog, Jareth."

He clicked his tongue scornfully, his gaze still hot and unrelenting. "And you call me a sore loser."

She glared at him, hands on her hips. "Yeah, that, and an arrogant, leering, manipulative….-"

In a heartbeat he had bodily knocked her back into the door, his hands slamming down hard and startlingly loud either side of her head.

"… _- __**bastard**_," he finished for her forcefully, in a hot, tense voice, eyes flashing. "I know. True enough, but you're getting a bit repetitive, Sarah. You're running out of excuses, and I'm running out of patience, so let me make myself quite, undeniably clear."

His stern, burning gaze held her transfixed for a second longer, then his head darted in towards the side of her face, pushing her chin back and laying a hot open mouthed-kiss on her throat in the same sudden movement. His hands roughly slipped under her shirt at her waist, and he splayed his fingers against the warm skin of her back. Then they moved downwards, and if she'd shuddered before she jerked like a hooked fish now, heart leaping wildly as a chilling heat rushed through her. Her mouth opened soundlessly.

He spoke against the side of her neck, hot breath and lips further teasing and troubling her. "I don't care whether you give in, or protest and prevaricate until you're blue in the face, it won't make the slightest difference." One hand slipped up her back to between her shoulder blades to press her against his chest, the other warm at her waist. He raised his head and focused dauntingly on her. His tone was very definite. "If you think for an instant that at this point I am going to step out of your life and leave you alone, after your repeated impudence and after I've felt you tremble and moan lustfully in my arms and kiss me with all your fiery little heart, then you've got another thing coming, princess." His eyes were smoldering. "Before you do, that is."

She **was** trembling in his arms. She could feel her resolve weakening. It felt like he was melting his way through her defenses with a blowtorch.

"I didn't moan lustfully," was all she found to mutter.

His hand pressed into the small of her back, making her arch in towards him, and he laid another hot, lingering kiss on her exposed throat. "You will. That's a promise."

His hands were roving over her back, feeling like they were leaving trails of electricity, as he brushed his lips over hers, light and teasingly, making her wish – oh, so wildly – that he'd stop and stay there and kiss her… Heart pounding, she bit down a whimper.

_If I give an inch,_ Sarah thought desperately, _he'll be all over me_.

… _And the problem with that is …?_

Somehow she managed to raise her arms to grip his, trying to still his touching her, to little effect. "I know I'm going to regret this," she breathed out through gritted teeth.

He grinned with relish and dark promise. "The only thing you're going to regret will be that thirteen hours is too short."

She snorted. "Yeah. Right. I know you, Jareth."

"No. You don't." His voice was quiet, and his eyes caught the light strangely. Then the moment passed, and the suggestive grin was back as he pulled her towards him. "Not nearly as intimately as I'd wish, not yet…"

She made an impatient noise, and pushed back away. "I don't do wishes," she answered snidely. "That's your department, Goblin King."

She instantly regretted saying it. His hold on her loosened and he just looked at her, silently, with hard and suddenly opaque eyes. Sarah quailed a little. Then he shook his head.

"… Do you want another reason why your wishing me away didn't work?" he asked her almost conversationally. "You wished that the Goblin King disappear. That doesn't apply to me right now. I'm here as a private individual." His hands resumed their possessive caressing, and he went on with taunting suggestiveness. "A private, very interested, individual…"

There was something important going on in what he said - that part of Sarah reacted to without fully understanding… but she'd deal with that later; right now what she caught on to was - "Hold it. My wish didn't do anything, then? So this thirteen-hour forfeit thing really is a load of bullshit?

He looked irritated. "Your wish didn't do anything because there was no conviction in it whatsoever."

She ignored that. "If my wish didn't work, then your thirteen hours is just another dirty trick, isn't it?!" she demanded.

His jaw set slightly. "You could call it a trick. Or compensation for your many insults…"

She opened her mouth to heap scorn on that and retort that if anyone was owing compensation it was him… but his gloved hand was suddenly covering her mouth, and the rant she was readying vanished from her mind as he looked at her. The irrepressible dark irony was still there in his expression, but it might as well have been directed at him rather than her, and his eyes just glowed with an intensity that made her catch her breath.

"Or… a wish," he murmured, in a low, vibrant tone.

Sarah's heart clenched.

-----

_A/N. Twenty pages and she still hasn't caved. Sheesh. This just keeps growing.  
_

_There's more, oh yesss, Precious, there's more. But I'm afraid RL is coming down like a ton of bricks, and it won't be finished for a while. Hope you're enjoying the ride so far and R&R is always good.  
_


	3. Chapter 3

-----

He took advantage of her being stunned to press his point by swiftly moving to kiss her again. The rough tenderness and obvious bridled hunger of his mouth on hers only confirmed his words, and Sarah's pulse raced, her mind spinning. _Oh no. Oh my…_

"… Cheating bastard," she muttered weakly, when he released her. His lips twitched, but his expression stayed intent and unnervingly focused on her.

His voice was quiet and meaningful and warm. "I'm asking **nicely**. Come away with me, Sarah. Thirteen hours, no strings attached…" his hands moved at her waist, and he grinned wickedly at her, looking more like his usual mocking self, his tone leering and teasing again "…Satisfaction guaranteed."

_Get that in writing and SIGN IT!_ a large part of her mind yelled.

Still, smirking slightly, she played for time, looking at him critically. "Your offers used to have a bit more… flair to them, Goblin King. Is this what I get by way of _'fear me, love me…'_?", she provoked him, teasing.

His grin tightened. "I told you, I'm not offering as the Goblin King. …And besides," something a little dark and hard crept into his eyes and his voice, "That owl has flown, Sarah." He paused for a moment, and she didn't dare try to understand his expression. The grin was gone and the evening air suddenly felt a lot cooler.

"Don't be so damned fickle, little girl. You called my original offer, and I quote, _'pretty words and hot air'_ "- there was a twitch in his cheek that bared his teeth, "- and now that I make you another that is **honest**, and tangible, exactly as per your specifications…", he bit out with brittle emphasis, "you still have the bloody-minded insolence and **gall** to complain…!"

_( - "…Everything that you wanted, I have done…" - )_

His hands had clenched to fists by her sides and Sarah felt real apprehension, and not a little guilt, as he stared at her harshly. The air between them seemed to begin to crowd with unspoken bitter words as several long, tense seconds passed.

Then Jareth closed his eyes and shook his head, running a hand through his fine pale hair He gave a weary, aggravated sigh. "Women."

The abrupt drop in tension made Sarah's head spin. She stared at him, disconcerted. His stance now quite relaxed, he leaned on his elbow against the door beside her, and gave her a heavy, accusing look.

And then, with a smirk, he deliberately dropped his gaze.

His eyes unhurriedly and blatantly travelled over her body, and his grin turned downright lascivious. Sarah instantly felt far, far too warm for comfort. Really, **really** too warm. Several layers of clothing suddenly seemed to be, to all intents and purposes, both pointless and inexistent.

He raised his leering gaze to her very red face again, and lifted one incredibly suggestive eyebrow. "Is it always going to be such a challenge to satisfy you, I wonder…?", he murmured.

_Ffwslgk._

Sarah's insides were hot, squirming mush and her nerves were in tatters. She would have dearly loved to retort "And you're going to keep wondering!". She could hear it perfectly clear and cutting in her mind. But something seemed to be happening to the words before they reached her vocal cords. They were meeting head-on with her frazzled hormones, and she was very much afraid that by the time the time they did make it to her mouth they'd've turned from bitchy put-down to tremulous whimper.

And worse, she had the increasingly strong and most unsettling suspicion that she was, in fact, wrong.

Jareth smirked, watching her blush with a great amount of vindication.

"Well? Not flaring up to defend yourself?", he taunted, with a lazy grin. "I'm honestly disappointed. After calling my Labyrinth a piece of cake and all… by now I quite expected to hear you defiantly vow you could take me on with one hand tied behind your back or something equally ridiculous and misguided…"

_Yeah – that would have been when I was fifteen __and clueless and you kept your hands and your more-than-explicit suggestions to yourself!_

Sarah gritted her teeth, and focused on the positive mental image of gunning down the butterflies in her stomach. "Get used to disappointment, Jareth", she managed to answer, snidely but with little conviction.

He frowned a warning at her. "Been there, done that - got the T-shirt," he answered drily. "No, I really don't think so. I am **quite** through with being disappointed, as far as you are concerned." His free hand idly wound into the fabric of her sweatshirt, and just as casually but quite irresistibly tugged her towards him. He grinned down at her, still easily leaning against the door, his face very close to hers. "So be a dear and defy me, so I can get on with thoroughly proving you wrong. We both know I'm going to win here."

Before she could say anything to that, he shifted his position, with the same feline, unhurried but unstoppable grace, to stand in front of her again, a hand at her waist holding her close and the other pushing up her shirt to rest on her ribs, warm and firm and distractingly close to the underside of her breast. Chest and hips pressed against his, and midriff exposed, Sarah couldn't totally prevent herself from uttering a slight squeak. The butterflies were back with reinforcements, and her heart was pounding crazily.

Eyes dark and teasing, and his grin showing sharp teeth, he leaned his head in towards the side of hers. "…And being the cheating bastard that I am, I'd happily tie both," he added silkily.

_Just raise your arms, and push him away,_ part of Sarah's mind was coaxing, a little desperately. It was one forlorn and hopeless bid for sanity in the flood of unwanted yet incredibly compelling images now hijacking her brain, and it required a concentration that right then she was finding utterly impossible, as she mentally flailed to deal with the Very, Very Bad Thoughts and the reactions they provoked.

Jareth watched her out of the corner of his eyes with silent laughter on his face.

She swallowed, and scowled at him. "Yeah, that fails to surprise me, really. I've noticed you seemed disturbingly fond of that", she said acidly.

He chuckled, very close to her, and the sound was velvet and caramel and danger. "Well, if you didn't so provokingly insist I have no power over you…", he whispered tauntingly. His tongue flicked at her ear, making her catch her breath in a hiss, and she heard the smile in his voice as he went on in a low murmur. "So, that … disturbs you, does it, Sarah…? I'll certainly keep that in mind."

_Oh no__, you don't. Oh no, I don't._

Trying very hard to ignore the hot-and-cold, most unwelcome but quite undeniable jolt of reaction to that in her lower belly, Sarah sniffed and turned her head away from him.

"Your mind is a sick, twisted place, Jareth, and I want nothing to do with it", she said with all the cutting dignity she could muster. The effect was rather lessened by her breathless tone.

Turning away had exposed more of her neck to him, though, and he was immediately at it with hot lips and teasing teeth. Eyes wide, feeling like she was going to dissolve into the door, Sarah heard herself make a small strangled sound when Jareth brushed his thumb against the underside of her breast.

"But you do want to be doing things with the rest of me, don't you?…" He smirked against her throat, feeling her pulse leap. Then he was whispering in her ear again, in a slow, breathy, nerve-shredding tone, as his hand slipped lower down her back. "Twisted, much like fair, is a very relative notion, Sarah. So, do tell me… what's your basis for comparison? …You always did have such a vivid imagination…"

"Pervert", she gasped.

His fingers dug in slightly, and he looked at her, with a relaxed smile that was almost friendly, were it not for his unnerving, pointedly raised eyebrow and the way his mismatched eyes glittered. "Going by your dreams, I'd say you meet me halfway, precious thing."

Sarah's stomach flipped, again, and she felt her face burn. It took her several short, tense breaths before she could answer. "…You had **no** right to look at those", she said angrily. _That is so not fair._

"I have every right. I'm rather intimately concerned by them, after all," he answered coolly, though his eyes were anything but. "And I like your dreams, Sarah—you don't stall and prevaricate for half so damned long in them."

_That's for sure_. _I'd've long ago dropped my pants_. With difficulty she tore her mind away from a few remembered scenarios. _Focus, Sarah!_

She pulled a wry face. "Yeah, well, this is reality, isn't it," she pointed out.

It sounded a bit bitter, even to her. _Drat._

His arched eyebrows raised again, his face otherwise expressionless. "I'm so glad you've acknowledged that, now what exactly is your point?", he asked drily.

She shook her head slightly, frowning at him in confusion and frustration, and surprised at the pang of hopelessness she felt and that coloured her voice. "That – That this is all completely and utterly insane!", she exclaimed.

He unhanded her, and folded his arms, looking down at her rather intimidatingly. "Is that your way of saying that you've run out of weak excuses and arguments and you're acting on nothing more than reflex pig-headed contrariness?" His tone was increasingly impatient and sharp. "Or is it cowardice?"

She flinched, then flared up. "Cowardice?! How about common sense?"

It sounded unaccountably hollow to her own ears, and Jareth sneered. "From you? Hardly. Your little gift I think has proved you're well devoid of that. You've never thought before you acted until this point, but at least you usually bravado'd your way through your foolishness. You've never backed down before, and now that you have to face this particular consequence – and the truth - you turn chicken. I call coward," he mouthed forcefully.

_OK, that should not sting like that._

"…this particular consequence'…!?" she repeated in a weak, incredulous tone.

"Prove me wrong, Sarah." His voice was low and compelling.

_Oh. I see._ She shot him an unhappy, tense look. "You're not going to goad me into this, Jareth."

He sighed, and looked weary. "That was not my original intent. I was hoping to seduce you, rather. But as neither that, nor honesty, seem to be as effective as I'd hoped, I find myself resorting to other… tricks." His expression had closed somehow, and his voice was detached and self-deprecating.

Something in Sarah was, inexplicably, hurting. She opened her mouth to protest, defend herself, but she was cut off with a hiccup as his hand was suddenly wrapped around her throat, brusquely angling her face up towards him. His soft leather-clad fingers held her jaw in a iron grip, as she stared at him wide-eyed.

His gaze was molten, unblinking, and Sarah, her heart racing, felt very much like a small fluttering creature caught by a snake or… owl… - while at the same time, something of an equal intensity and fierce hunger seemed to waken and uncurl in her stomach, wanting to reach out, wanting to reach him - **wanting**…

She winced to see hardness creeping back into his handsome and now stern features. When he spoke again, the harmonics in his voice crawled up her spine to dig into the base of her skull, and wrapped velvet-sheafed claws around her chest.

"It's too late, Sarah. I will not beg, and I will **not** be rejected again._ You've come too far to turn back now._"

She couldn't move an inch, nor tear her eyes away from his. Was it her trembling? Or was that the tension vibrating off him? Something, someone was surely going to break or burst. Just as she felt her heart seize, he closed his eyes and let go of her. She stumbled forward an awkward step, her knees giving out, as she abruptly released a breath she hadn't been aware of holding in.

Panting, and her eyes watering, she kept her gaze down, staring numbly at the floor, deafened by her own heart pounding. Even without looking up, she could still clearly feel him, as a buzzing against her skin; his forceful, electric presence playing havoc with her personal space. She could have traced his outline in total darkness. On some odd plane of perception, he was practically radioactive, and she had the dizzying feeling that her very atoms were being magnetically, irresistibly attracted to mate with his and go kablooie.

His voice came again, quiet. "I ask for so little… again. Thirteen hours. I swear I'll bring you back - insofar as my word means anything to you."

His tone had turned curiously flat and almost distant. He wasn't going to beg her.

She couldn't think stright. She stalled again. "You don't make it sound like **little**," she quipped sarcastically, agitated and still not looking at him.

"**Sarah."**

His voice stilled her. She froze.

There had been everything in how he had uttered her name, every last part of his intensity and desire and impatience. It was a rebuke and a warning and a confession and a supplication. It was the voice she heard in her nightmares, and her fantasies. It touched her soul and made her stomach curl.

An image flashed through her racing mind – the memory of how he had looked at their final confrontation all those years ago. Once, he **had **begged her… and she had rejected him – to save Toby. "_Because that's the way it is done."_

No baby this time.

No Goblin King, even.

She wasn't fifteen and wearing white and on a mission.

She truly wasn't risking anything but her own skin - and frankly, her skin seemed pretty happy with the idea.

_( - Make that 'gasping for it', actually. - )_

A girl could make worse mistakes.

Like letting the occasion pass.

…_And to think I called Hoggle a coward._

Besides_…_

_If he doesn't react all leeringly to that size __comment, then he really is being serious._

Something huge and warm blossomed in her chest, and purred.

She felt light-headed with vertigo.

And took the jump over the edge, again.

"… Ten," she breathed out. He blinked. She went on more strongly, looking up at him, her eyes challenging. "Ten hours. You stole time from me in the tunnel."

"You…" His jaw had slackened slightly, then he scowled furiously at her. "Sarah, will you ever stop being so damn contrary - _just for the hell of it_?!"

He looked very, very annoyed, before revising his tactic. He swiftly had both hands at her waist, then moving, one slipping up her side under her shirt as the other reached around, pulling her hips close towards him and he moved in to worry at her ear and neck with rapid, teasing, nerve-flaring little bites. "It'll be your loss, you know…" he whispered hotly.

"Not the… point." she gasped. "Ten hours."

He bit down a little hard then, then drew his head away to glare at her. "…You had to make some kind of a final stand, didn't you?" he demanded scornfully.

In spite of her flushed face, there was a slight smile at the corner of her lips. Sarah eyed him coolly, as she silently agreed with him. Her tone was gently mocking but meaningful, as she mouthed, "Payback, bitch."

"You're being the stubborn bitch here," he snapped. He really did look ticked again "Trust you to lose with such poor grace," he sneered. She met his daunting glare with calm self-possession, no more doubt or hesitation in her eyes, and while he was relieved that she wasn't flinching away from him anymore, Jareth wasn't entirely sure he was glad to see that resolute look on her face again. "**No**", he said in what he hoped was an unarguable tone, scowling haughtily at her. "Thirteen. I'm not negotiating this with you."

Sarah's tone was just as firm. "You're not **anything** with me otherwise. Ten hours, Jareth."

His lips thinned. He eyed her, considering, for moment, then determinedly moved in towards her to resume his previous mode of attack. He trailed hot, swift kisses down her throat, nipping at her skin with his teeth, making her breath hitch, as his hand drew slow, lazy, insistent circles over her back and sides.

"…You'll only hate yourself for this later," he warned her in a low, taunting growl. "Don't blame me when you realise you've made yet another poor decision here…"

Despite her body arching into his touch, Sarah's voice was quite self-assured. "I'm not sure you really want me to be reconsidering my decisions at this point, now do you, Jareth? Ten."

She grasped at the cloak on his shoulders and pushed him back a bit to eye him severely. "And I'll be wanting some of that time to **talk**, buster. There's a few things we need to discuss here."

Not. A. Chance, thought Jareth to himself. He was going to make damn sure she was in no state to think straight, let alone argue with him anymore. Even if it did mean turning the world upside down again. Repeatedly.

Sarah could read the general idea of what he was thinking quite clearly in his expression. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Ten hours, Jareth, or nothing! - And no re-ordering time!", she added with sudden forethought.

A very sulky, irritated look flashed over his face. "Bitch," he muttered. He scowled at her, and breathed out in an aggravated hiss. "Fine!", he spat out. "Ten hours. Extendable for as long as you wish, if you just say the word."

His eyes glinted, then, and he suddenly looked at lot cockier. He grinned, as his hands moved over her, and his voice turned husky and intimate and full of dark promise. "…And you will say the word, Sarah. Over and over. Loudly. Imploringly…"

She blushed, but rolled her eyes. "Conceited git." She was smiling as she said it, though, an irrepressible giddiness rising in her.

"You'll be begging for more. You're no match for me, Sarah," he told her firmly, his eyes glittering.

"I've proved that one wrong before…", she teased lightly, in spite of feeling like she was just going to melt if he kept on touching her like that.

"You got lucky," he retorted. There was just the slightest irritated edge to his banter.

"You got pasted," she countered provokingly.

His teeth bared in a predatory grin. "Indeed." He murmured. "Payback, then."

_Whoops_, went part of Sarah, as _Whee-hee! _went the rest of her. He yanked her towards him, his mouth coming down hard and undeniable on hers. There was a moment of warm lips pressed together, then they were both open-mouthed, hot tongues mingling, and equally demanding and enthusiastic.

------

_A/N. Whoot! Finally!_

_... aaaaand... yes... there is more._

_(I've been told that after all that build-up and suggestiveness, I better deliver. That's rather worrisome. You won't settle for "dot dot dot", then? )_


	4. Chapter 4

-----

He was kissing her ruthlessly, no pretences and very little restraint. She was kissing him back and she wasn't fighting him – well, not in bitterness, at least – and this kiss was not to prove anything or to score a point, and neither was going to lose anything by it and it wouldn't end with them glaring at each other again – this kiss could go on and on and it was only, unbelievably, impossibly, exhilaratingly, a beginning…

Whoever knew defeat could feel this wonderful?

Not that Sarah felt defeated, not at all. She felt thrilled to bits.

The wary little part of her mind that tried to remind her that he was not to be trusted, the knowing voice that whispered _such things have a price, always_… those parts of her sighed, and, resigning themselves, tactfully drew back to stand discreetly to one side. Time enough for worrying and _I-told-you-so_'s later. 'Later' was hypothetical. 'Later' made no sense. 'Later' was all of ten glorious hours away. This was a moment to seize and experience entirely and intensely _now._

Eyes closed, she deeply breathed in the scent of him as it wrapped around her, at once heady and elusive. Jareth smelt of night time, and burnt cinnamon, and other things she couldn't name; alien, yet so very, gut-clenching familiar to her. His kiss still held that odd, slight, tang - neither quite a taste nor a sensation - a faint edge of what she could only liken to electricity. Unless it was what kissing magic felt like.

Because this - this felt like magic, pure and simple.

Well… maybe not so pure.

He pushed her back into the corner of the doorway, his mouth still hungrily on hers. His hands were - _his hands are everywhere_, she thought wildly, while her own were winding into his -_I can't believe how soft it is-_ hair and pulling him towards her, eagerly.

_I do want the Goblin King. Hot dang__, but I want him_. There was something clawing at her stomach, wanting more more more, and she arched up to press her chest against his, needing to touch him with every inch of her skin… Her breath caught in a small sound in her throat, half blissful sigh half frustrated groan, and he reacted violently to it, his hold on her tightening reflexively, and his kiss turning wild. With a flutter in her chest, Sarah felt herself melt further, things tightening low inside her body as his hands slipped around to cup her ass and lift her, roughly pushing her further back and up against the door. He pressed himself against her, never once releasing her lips, and his mouth covered the small moaning noise she made as he brought one hand back around, trailing across her side, moving up below her shirt to press against her breast under her bra, …

Several things happened at once.

They both froze, as they were suddenly flooded in bright mustard-yellow light. Sarah hadn't realized that it had turned from dusk to quite dark - the light bulb over the doorway had just come on.

And loud wolf whistles and laughter rang out in the evening air from close by.

"Hey, you two! Get a room, will ya?"

Reality – _it's Friday night on campus and I was supposed to go out for a run and instead I am, oh my god, publicly making out with the Goblin King on the doorstep to my dorm _– came rushing back like a slap in the face. Sarah groaned and screwed her eyes shut.

"Someone's getting lucky tonight!"

"Oh man, check out the cloak - I love the costume!"

Her lust-giddy mind was clearing very fast. Heart pounding and face burning, Sarah felt mortified.

And murderous. She'd recognized one of the jeering voices.

"Oh yeah, do me Dungeons and Dragons style!"

_I am going to evisce__rate you for that, Josh Peterson_, she thought balefully. She opened her eyes, and the thought instantly changed to _Oh my god, Jareth is going to eviscerate him for that._

… Despite the explosive potential of the situation, a devious, irrepressible part of her mind carefully noted and stored away the image of Jareth's expression. It was nearly as priceless as when she'd attempted to knee him.

There was a moment's incredibly awkward silence, as Jareth slowly lowered his hand, but he didn't move away from her otherwise. Looking past him, her blood still beating loudly in her ears, Sarah just about made out, through his mess of pale hair, the three guys who'd walked past the steps that led up to the doorway, and were now heading off, sniggering loudly.

_If they recognized me… Next thing you know, this'll be all over campus. Sarah Williams digs LARP players._

_Though that may well be the least of my worries here…_

Biting her lip, she apprehensively turned back to face Jareth, unsure of his reaction, but fairly certain that dissolving into nervous laughter at this point would not be appreciated.

He was still motionless and very close. The overhead artificial light sharpened his features and turned his fly-away hair golden, as he stared stony-faced at her. She wordlessly met his flat gaze, willing her expression as neutral as his, though she knew she was still somewhat pink with embarrassment.

_It really __was too much to hope that the Goblin King might blush, damn him._

Both seemed to be daring the other to say something. After a long, heavy moment, he very slowly and pointedly arched a sardonic eyebrow at her. He wouldn't stoop so low as to say it out loud, of course, but she didn't need telepathy to clearly hear his dry voice in her mind, drawling _"… 'Average jerks'…?"_

Really, as much as she desperately wished to contradict him, she couldn't think of anything she could possibly say in their defence to honestly counter that.

_Thanks, guys. You've really done the human race proud._

As she was silent, Jareth looked ever so smug for an instant. Sarah scowled.

"Well," she muttered at him in a resentful undertone, "it's your fault, too. If you didn't come after me in such a public place…"

"…My fault?", he repeated with sarcastic incredulity.

He looked critically down at her, with an insufferably superior air. Knowing full well how petulant and slightly ridiculous she had just sounded, and now looked, she still just scowled at him.

He stared right back at her, ironic and wordlessly mocking her with his eyes. His lips quirked up, in a lop-sided, wry smile. "I suppose. I must admit that one of your so very witty comrades raised a most interesting point," he commented lightly. "That suggestion we move this to the bedroom." His grin had widened, and turned to something quite different indeed, as he went on before she could react. "Now, much as I truly relish the idea of some day hearing you invite me into your bed…," - he paused briefly, the expression in his eyes knowing and wicked, lingering over the image with an obvious enjoyment Sarah found both a bit unnerving and quite alarmingly hot - "…I think," he carried on in a casual tone, "I am going to insist on us going to my place this time, Sarah. Far more convenient. And private."

'_My place.'_

That brought a slight nervous thrill of realization, fear edging the erotic shiver. She had agreed and was more than willing to 'move this to the bedroom', but… – "You mean the castle? The Underground?" she asked, unable to quite hide the trepidation in her voice.

And – …_ 'this time'…?, _a tiny part of her queried.

A brief impatient frown flashed over Jareth's face, then the promising grin was back, as he wrapped his arms easily about her. "I mean Underground - in my room - in my bed - and under me", he answered firmly and deliberately.

Her eyes widened for a second, and then she giggled, looking at him archly. "What - the whole time?"

An eyebrow shot up. "Preferably, but I'm certainly open to your suggestions…", he purred.

His expression spoke volumes – the kind that are usually kept out of children's' reach on the top shelves, the ones with the interesting, 'is-that-actually-possible…?' woodcut illustrations.

Sarah blushed and giggled again, and then mentally kicked herself.

_Oh gods, that's enough, I am_ not _just standing here discussing favourite sexual positions with Jareth the Goblin King!!_

_- Good point - why are we still only discussing them?_

She gave her head a fierce shake - not knowing nor caring by this point that Jareth was watching her internal struggle with her last misgivings play itself out on her face with great interest and considerable amusement.

_Stoppit, and think with your head instead of your hormones for a minute!_

Ten hours – a night in the Underground. In Jareth's power, and in his bed.

_Sounds wonderful. _

_Shut up._ _Try to ignore that "in his bed" part, and…_

_Sorry. Can't._

Her body was tingling and warm where it touched his, and impatient with her for hesitating again.

_In his power__…_

_In his _bed!

Well… She sighed. It was too late, and there didn't seem to be anything she could do at this point to regain some control over the situation, anyway. She was going to get screwed.

Hopefully, in the literal sense of the word only…

_( - …Hopefully, in the literal sense of the word, _lots_. - )_

Resigning herself to her terrible fate, Sarah took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on the little things she _could_ control_. Normal_ things for this kind of situation

_As if this were even remotely normal. _

Like… Should she pack a toothbrush?

And would he still respect her in the morning?

No, wait, that wasn't exactly one of the little things. Sarah pulled a frustrated face – she needed to think rationally about this, and that was simply not possible while he still held her so close against him...

"My, such concentration." His soft, ironic voice interrupted her busy thoughts. "Forget a line again, Sarah?"

She looked up at him, frowning to see his teasing, enquiring gaze, and the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

_Think__ rationally. _She drew another deep, calming breath, then gifted him with a warm smile that didn't match the warning in her eyes.

"Ok. Right. I want to get a few things from my room," she announced decisively.

Jareth gave her a long, assessing stare. Then, muttering something too low for her to catch, he removed his hands from where he still clasped her waist, and took a step backwards, folding his arms to look askance at her, with a small twisted smile.

"You truly couldn't just let me just sweep you off your feet, could you?", he commented wryly.

Sarah was unfazed. "You're not Prince Charming, buster, we've established _that_ much. So that means no whisking away, and if I'm going back with you to the Castle beyond the Goblin City tonight, you can damn well wait out here, or wherever, while I, in sensible, _non_-fairytale princess fashion, pack a few things for a night away." She had also crossed her arms, eying him sternly.

He snorted. " 'Sensible'. I remember a certain wide-eyed princess in a sugary white dress…" His tone was light and mocking. "What happened to her?"

"She grew up," Sarah answered flatly, ignoring his baiting her. Then she allowed herself a small provoking smirk, setting her hands to her hips. "And if I understand the current situation correctly, I do believe you're not complaining overmuch about that."

He looked at her levelly for a moment, then leaned lazily back against the wall behind him. Looking perfectly relaxed, arms and ankles crossed, he let his hooded gaze leisurely travel over her figure, blatantly eying her as she stood opposite him, before raising his eyes to meet hers and giving her a smirk of his own. His expression made his thoughts on the matter abundantly clear, and she tried to hide both her smile and her blush, vindicated and absurdly pleased.

"You're generally the one doing all the complaining, sweetheart, not I," Jareth drawled, his eyes taunting.

Her smile faded instantly as she frowned at him. "You generally give me damn good reasons to," she retorted snippily.

There was the tiniest second's beat, before an expression came into Jareth's face then that shot warmth through Sarah's stomach and made her knees turn to jelly. His lips stretched in a dark, devilish grin.

"Well," he breathed out in a very low voice, as he stepped slowly back towards her, with predatory eyes and determination, "if _that_ isn't a challenge…"

Paralyzed, she watched him advance on her, graceful and smirking and inescapable. Her breath was all of a sudden coming short, as once more her insides tightened and she felt a rush of heat to her face, eyes wildly on his mouth as he drew her near to kiss her again...

_Oh no. No, no, nonono. If we keep this up, I'll never get away._

With a positively stupendous effort of will, she abruptly turned her face away from the promise of his lips hovering one warm breath away from hers.

"… Room," was all she managed to say, concentrating very hard on the grain of wood in the door, her voice constricted. Then, flustered, she rapidly added "Mine - I mean – My stuff. Going." She cringed to hear herself babble.

_Way to go, Sarah. C__ould I possibly sound more witless?_

Jareth laughed.

He stepped back away from her. "Very well." His voice was rich and warm with amusement. Eyes dancing, he leaned back against the wall, and raised a stern gloved finger. "You have thirteen minutes… before I start adding every extra second until you come back as another hour to the time you owe me, " he threatened, grinning wolfishly.

Sarah had more or less got her breath and her senses back once he moved away. She rolled her eyes at him. "Of course," she agreed with heavy irony, and sighed. "Just once, Jareth, just once could it _not_ be thirteen?", she asked sourly, as she pulled out her keys.

He loosely folded his arms, quite at ease, and his smirk widened. "Fine. Ten, then," he ammended smugly.

"… Jerk," Sarah muttered viciously, as she shoved the door in, and stalked past the chuckling Goblin King into the hall.

But she sort of hurried up the stairs.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

_**A/N**. _Ha, ha. No, we ain't there yet.

A slightly shorter chapter. I have serious doubts about being able to work on this in the upcoming month or two, though, I'm afraid. But I do have more planned out, fear (and pester) not.

Thanks for those who've reviewed and seem to be enjoying it so far. Your support (and pressure) is what makes me keep at it.

: exits, muttering irritably about the under-appreciated narrative value of the elipsis :_  
_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N.**_Believe it or not, we have an update! Look, I did say it was going to take a month or so._

_Thanks again to __**Anij**__ for the beta. And try and spot the silly hat-tip to __**Subtilior**__'s _**Erlkönig**_**…**_

&&&&&&&

Her swift jog up the stairs only made her more breathless and hot-and-bothered. Sarah's thoughts were a whirlwind as she hurried back to her room. _Not_ hurrying because she actually feared his ridiculous threat, she told herself, nope… – and certainly not because she was impatient to… - her feet slowed, as she stared unseeing at the lino floor…

"…_in my bed - and under me"__…_

_- __Oh,_ hell_ no_ –

and then she was trying to outpace her thoughts again.

With a fixed grin and a slightly manic, glazed look on her face she pushed through the door to the dormitory room she shared with her friend Patricia. She had an instant of her mind utterly failing to adjust to the normalcy of her mundane, familiar bedroom, before she realized that she wasn't alone. Her roommate glanced up from the various outfits spread out on the bed before her, to look askance at Sarah's half-stumbling entrance.

"Hey", Sarah said breathlessly.

_Damn. I really hoped she'd be out. __There's no way she's not going to notice something's up…_

The short-haired girl gave Sarah a vaguely curious look. "Hey. You back already? That was short."

Her comment held a slight edge. Pat was just a touch defensive about Sarah's stronger willpower when it came to going out for a run in the evenings.

Sarah's pink face could more or less be attributed to physical exertion, after all, and not from where her mind had just been wandering…

"Are you going to be wearing that new top of yours tonight? 'Cause if so, I'd like to borrow your red one…", Pat asked, turning back to frown in concentration at the clothes spread out before her.

_Oh - Damn, again_

Picking her way across the not-exactly-tidy floor, Sarah reached her side of the room and tossed her bookbag onto her bed. She headed for her chest of drawers, not looking at her friend as she improvised her answer, and tried hard to keep her voice casual.

_OK. Acting like there is absolutely nothing__ - nope, nada, zilch, nothing - seriously unusual about this evening…_

"Um. Yeah. Actually, I ran into someo – an old high school friend. And…he" – _no, she'll question that, cover up!_ - "…she" – _too late for that now, damndamn_damn– "…he… is only in town for the evening, so, um, actually, we were going to go out. To talk, catch up, you know?" Sarah shut her eyes and winced.

_Smooth, Sarah, real smooth._

Pat's voice came from behind her, and she could hear the grin in it. "Ok, now I'm suspicious. Old high school friend?"

Sarah kept her head stuck in her drawers as she rummaged around, and tried to sound airy. "Yeah, he was in my drama class."

Pat didn't really care about the finer details of the fabrication. With typical girl friend bluntness, she got straight to the point."… So, this is an old crush of yours or what?" she probed.

"What?! Oh yeah, _right_," Sarah answered sarcastically, and there was certainly something colouring her voice that made her response sound heartfelt enough. She grabbed what she was looking for, and finally dared to turn and meet her friend's very questioning look, as she headed across the room to the little bathroom they shared. "_No_. Nothing like that at all," she told Pat, rolling her eyes. She closed the bathroom door behind her a bit hurriedly.

_( - "…nothing, tralala?" -)_

"… yet, you're getting all dressed up for this guy." Pat commented pointedly through the door. "Uh-huh."

"Hey, I'm going out for the evening, I can at least change out of my running clothes!" Sarah called back defensively.

She met her own rather wide eyes in the bathroom mirror. _That's right. It's only polite, after all. I'm just being civilized here. _

_I'm certainly not doing it for _him._ Ha._

… _Well, on the other hand, he is kind of a king, after all. It'd be nice to not look like a total peasant. Maybe not surrender every psychological advantage here?…_

_Yes, but he is also a major-league jerk, and I really don't want to give him anything else to smirk about._

… _Well… this is for my own sense of dignity, then. And not in anyway whatsoever like I'm trying to seduce him._

_Because I just know he'll be so insufferably smug if it looks like I've made an effort here…_

Biting her lip, she reached for her mascara; hesitated…

Her deliberation was interrupted by Pat's voice coming through the door again. Her friend wasn't giving up that easily.

"But you'd rather go out with this old school friend than come back to the Scotch with me tonight like we planned, to see if your mysterious rock star isn't there again?"

_Oh, yeah_. Because this wasn't the first time she'd been caught out snogging His Nibs in public, was it? Sarah scowled at the mirror. Not many people had noticed their last … conversation, in the dim, busy nightclub, and his appearance hadn't seemed quite so outlandish amongst the clubbers. But a few – including her roommate – had definitely caught sight of Sarah doing the tonsil tango with what Pat called her tall, blond, mysterious rock star ("Big hair, great ass," she'd added to the description), and had been very curious. Sarah had finally managed to more or less put an end to her girlfriends' Spanish Inquisition by saying that no, she didn't get his number.

Explaining her altered t-shirt had been dead easy in comparison. ("It's the name of his band.")

("But at what point in the evening exactly were you taking off your original t-shirt, Sarah, hmm?" – "Never you mind, Pat…"- )

Outside the bathroom, Pat went on. "I don't know, you've _got_ to be really interested in this school friend, girl, because your other guy at the club was really ho– omigod!"

Her voice had turned to a shocked exclamation.

"Pat?!" Sarah called out, alarmed.

She opened the door. A few feet away, Pat was standing very still, her eyes wide and fixed on where Sarah knew their window to be.

"Sarah," she called in a low, excited voice, not looking away from what she was staring at. "Come and see… slowly… there's this massive owl sitting right on our window sill!"

Sarah's eyes narrowed, and her hand clenched on the door knob. "Oh, _is _there…?," she grated out.

"Do you think it saw Herman?", Pat asked worriedly.

Herman, privately known to Sarah as "That Damn Thing on the Squeaky Treadmill All Night Long", was Pat's painfully neurotic hamster, the one who'd figured himself a canary earlier that day. Frankly, Sarah found it hard to believe any owl (not that she believed for an instant this was in fact an actual bird) could have spotted the daft rodent in its garishly pink and yellow plastic eyesore of a cage.

"That's probably it. Tell it to fuck off." Sarah said levelly, turning back to the mirror to brush her hair. "- And I know you heard that!" she added loudly.

Pat shot her a puzzled look, before turning back to stare at the window. "Um. It's still there. And it's _watching_ me."

Sarah met her reflection's flat gaze. "Right." It took her a second to make up her mind.

She flung the bathroom door the rest of the way back and stalked across the room. The white barn owl – of course – didn't move as she marched up to the open window and glared at it, ignoring Pat's gasp.

It didn't seem at all startled or perturbed. It stared at her all round-eyed and unblinking, which would've been a perfectly normal look on an ordinary owl, except that in this case it was probably because Sarah had flounced up to the window in her underwear.

If an owl could grin smugly, that's what this owl would be doing.

Sarah knew very well she was flashing him, but just then she didn't give a damn. "Were you worried I was going to chicken out, or were you just hoping to get a good eyeful?" she demanded scornfully, hands on her hips. "It's not even been five minutes yet, you voyeur, so piss off. Go on - s_hoo_," she added in a heavy, dangerous tone.

Her threat had no effect whatsoever. The owl didn't budge when she waved a hand at it, and abruptly, the whole situation felt so ridiculous that she wasn't sure what to say or do – not without looking completely crazy to her roommate. They traded stares for a long moment, the owl giving her its best _"what, me? I'm just a bird…"_ blank expression… she was certain there was an insolent smirk in those round golden eyes, somehow, but…

Then it did that slight tilt of its head to one side as it eyed her chest - and the mimic was so familiar and so instantly, typically infuriating that Sarah knew exactly who she was dealing with and what to do next.

_Smug, f__eathered son of a …-_

"Oh, _that_'s how it is, is it?" she hissed from between clenched teeth. "_Fine_."

In a few quick motions she'd ducked to pick up one her old tennis shoes lying nearby, where she'd kicked them off on her way in. She hefted it, glared at the owl…

- who blinked -

… and lobbed it at him.

There was a swift, undignified flurry of feathers, and then the window sill was empty.

Sarah grinned, dusting off her hands. _"Gut"_, she declared with vicious satisfaction.

She walked up to the window and pulled it closed, then turned around to meet Pat's rather confused and taken-aback expression.

"Don't want him eating Herman, do we?" Sarah offered breezily by way of explanation, still grinning.

"Ok, but… Sarah, that was… " Pat trailed off, watching with a weirded-out look as Sarah strolled back to the bathroom, with a definite air of triumph and a spring in her step.

There was a moment's silence in the room, as Sarah went on getting dressed, and then Pat's mind was right back on track.

"Changing out of your sweatshirt is one thing, Sarah," came her sly voice, "but changing to your sexy black underwear tells me you're definitely hoping for a lot more than just a chat out of this reunion…"

Sarah's lingering smirk vanished, and she grimaced. "Just my luck - frickin' Sherlock Holmes as a roommate", she muttered accusingly at the door. "Look - trust me, Pat, this is not what you think." That, at least, she could say convincingly.

"Yeah right, Sarah, bullshit me muchly… Honestly, what's the big deal? I'm not your mo… – stepmum. I don't see why you can't just tell me you've got a hot date for the evening…"

Pat's voice had sounded a little hurt at the end of her sentence, and Sarah immediately felt a bit guilty. She looked questioningly at herself in the mirror. _Really – what _is_ the big deal?_

Wrong question.

… The fucking _Goblin King_, that's what. Or, rather, rearrange those words…

There was really no way she could be casual about it. This was not just a hot date. Normal dates didn't turn into owls to hassle you, after all, nor produce crystal balls from thin air, nor take you back to the Castle beyond the Goblin City… nor did anyone else have _eyes_ like that…

Sarah wasn't completely inexperienced - not after two years in college. But she knew that this was something else entirely – something for which she had, well, no basis for comparison, truthfully. And not just because she'd already felt how he could effortlessly short-circuit her brain and turn her whole body into a hot quivering mess of sensation and desire.

(_"…I'm in a whole other league - in many respects…")_

This was most definitely, emphatically, insanely, _not_ just a hot date.

She was going to have sex with _Jareth_, whoever or whatever he was, after five years of more-or-less acknowledged-to-herself fantasizing about him… and no matter what he'd said about no strings attached, and no matter that she'd argued it down to a fixed, hopefully manageable time of ten hours… things were, oh, so definitely going to be different in the morning.

She couldn't let her mind dwell too much on what might happen during the actual night itself, not without her higher thought processes coming to a complete standstill and her body getting very compelling ideas of its own.

"_You're no match for me, Sarah."_

Now, why was it that that sounded a whole lot more convincing this time? Probably because unlike on her previous adventure she now had a disturbingly clear idea of what she was up against…

_Against_ being the operative word, here… - or, how he'd put it – _under_ him…

She closed her eyes, shivering in the remembered heat and intent in his gaze, and the feel of his hands on her. Oh, hell, she was in trouble this time, all right. And gladly rushing headlong into it, too.

_Ten hours, ten hours, ten hours… damnit…_

She knew now just how very easily he could … utterly seduce, and thoroughly distract her…

But from what? What was he playing at this time?

And for what stakes?

"_You just want revenge." - "No… not just."_

She bit her lip.

- _and yet_ – he'd been very – _understatement… _- very insistent, but …he hadn't actually wrapped her words around her neck – and here she was, of her own free will preparing to leave with him… because…

Pat's voice cut through her thoughts. "Oy, Sarah? I mean, since you're obviously standing me up tonight, you could at least let me know why."

_Why?_

… because she wanted to, and she'd hate herself if she walked away now. It really wasn't an option anymore, if it ever had been…

She wanted this. Him. Magic. Whatever it was that she'd glimpsed in his eyes for an instant.

_That much? _

… _Oh, yes._

"… Hang on, Pat," she called out, dizzily hearing her own voice casual and unfamiliar.

She caught sight of herself in the mirror, and for all that she looked like she was going into battle, there was a hint of a smile shining in her eyes and tugging at the corner of her mouth.

_Time to stop thinking. I've _made_ this decision._

_Ten hours. _

_I'm doing this._

_Oh, I am so doing this._

Taking a deep breath, she picked up her toothbrush and another few things from the bathroom – her hands shaking ever so slightly, from excitement and nerves both – and stepped out to face her friend's vaguely accusing look.

The only way she could go through with this and walk calmly back downstairs without bolting in panic or having a complete giddy nervous breakdown or just _exploding_ was to keep acting like it was just a date. And that meant taking Pat's questions and teasing in stride.

"How do I look?" she asked casually, with a wry smile. She'd chosen close-cut dark jeans and a spaghetti-strap chocolate brown top, her makeup light – because yes, she wanted to look good, but certainly not dressed up. _Not for that feathered jackass._

"Like someone's getting lucky," Pat answered, generously but still sounding just a little sore. She gave the toothbrush and change of clothes Sarah was holding a pointed look.

Sarah shot her a sheepish grin as she headed back to her bed, and began throwing a few things into a carry-all. "Yeah. Don't wait up."

"_Damn_, Sarah." Pat was grinning back, eyebrows raised. She flopped herself down on her own bed, staring at her. "Who _is_ this guy - did you get stuck together in detention before, or what?"

Sarah paused, then, in spite of her distractingly racing heartbeat, and smiled to herself. "You could say something like that, yeah." She straightened up, draping her bag over her shoulder. "We have a bit of a history," she added with perfect truthfulness. She gave her friend a Look. "And you're not hearing it tonight. I really do have to get going."

Pat gave her a hard, dissatisfied stare, but then sighed, and visibly relented. "Fiiiine, go then… But I want the whole story later. Especially including the juicy details of tonight's chapter", she leered at her.

In response, Sarah gave the ceiling a look of long suffering, and headed for the door.

"Can I take your red top this evening, then?" Pat enquired in a bright afterthought.

Sarah blinked. "Help yourself", she agreed with a sigh.

_Sorry, Pat, but right now I don't give a flying flip, because you see, I am about to leave for the Underground, __with the Goblin King, and… -_

She pulled on her shoes, her breathing uneven, trying to keep from finishing that thought, and to suppress the over-excited fizz of nerves and adrenaline running riot through her, speeding her pulse and buzzing at the edges of her mind.

When she reached for the doorknob, she paused. For a moment, she stood still, and indulged in the melodramatic feeling of, well …maybe heading to her doom. She knew she was being a bit ridiculous, but still. The actress in her wanted to say something a bit more - a bit more memorable to her friend, if these were to be her final words in this world…

But seriously, what could she say?

"_Bye, Pat._ _If you never see me again, it'll probably be because the Goblin King has somehow cheated and locked me up in his otherworldly castle to be his sex slave forever"…?_

She shook her head. After her performance with the owl, she couldn't very well afford to sound any more crazy. _Even though this is all, so, so insane_. She sighed, set her teeth and settled on a jaunty "See you!" called back over her shoulder as she passed the door.

"… I hope," she added grimly under her breath once out in the dim corridor.

Pat's cheerful parting shot followed her out. "Have fun, and play safe!"

Sarah stopped dead.

_Oh gods, _protection?

_Did he – _

_Was that even -_

With Patricia and another couple of her girlfriends, they'd bought a pack of condoms to share out, slipping them into their handbags with many a giggle and a solemn "You never know"… and she had gone on the Pill, with her previous boyfriend, if only to stop her mother's nagging… but…

_- …T__his is officially surreal._

Her mind just couldn't go there. They don't talk about doing the storybook character from your adolescent fantasies in Sex Ed. Whatever the hell the Goblin King was.

Try as she might to be rational and open-minded, she was having trouble reconciling the terms "Jareth", and "safe sex". "Sex" and "Jareth", oh yes, that worked, that fitted as closely as his damn pants, …but "safe"? Him?

It was not a word that would've made her list of Top Ten Adjectives Describing the Goblin King. It wouldn't have made it into the top _fifty_.

Sarah dazedly shook her head again, as she started down the stairs. She had said they were going to have things to discuss. Apparently those discussions were going to be even more pressing and bizarre than she'd anticipated…

Engrossed in her very strange thoughts, she reached the back door, thankfully not running into any other students in the hall. At the exit, she stopped, and took a deep breath; then, gathering her wits, and gripping the strap of her bag tightly, Sarah stepped resolutely outside to where she had last left off with the Goblin King.

…Well, in his human appearance, that is. She wondered vaguely but not too worriedly if he was going to say anything about that – she was pretty sure he'd dodged the shoe. And anyway, he'd really been asking for it…

&&&&

_Another short chappie? Don't worry, next one is hot on its heels. And I mean hot. Bwahaha.  
_


	6. Chapter 6

&&&&

It took her a second to see him, as her eyes adjusted. He'd moved out of the circle of brighter yellow light at the doorway, and was lounging halfway down the stairs, a pale-haired black silhouette in the dirty grey shadows. He was sitting with one leg lazily stretched out on the concrete stair in front of him, his head turned away from her, apparently staring out at the surrounding darkness; seeming supremely at ease and uncaring of his outlandish appearance. He looked, Sarah thought, both absurdly out of place, and utterly natural. Because seeing him like that, she'd just bet he was exactly the kind of jerk who'd make a girl step over his leg to peer up her skirt.

And the _bastard_ was eating a _peach_.

Whatever else might have been strikingly natural about his pose, she knew _that_ was certainly calculated, and put on for her benefit. She stared at the hapless piece of fruit heavily.

It wasn't so much that she was having second thoughts as it was that she was going back to all her earlier convictions that he was a devious, smug, cheating Fae bastard and that this was all a supremely bad idea.

He spoke without turning to face her, his voice warm and rich and unfairly thrilling as ever. "That was fourteen minutes, Sarah."

His tone was almost conversational, were it not for a tiny edge of what could have been a mocking reproach or what could have been a not-quite-mocking threat.

She scowled at the back of his head, refusing to feel intimidated. _Oh, I'm so scared. Jerk._ "I lost a shoe", she told him blandly.

She could just about make out the grin on his profile, in the darkness, as he half-turned towards her. "Ah. We are in keeping with the Cinderella theme tonight, aren't we?"

"I was thinking more of Stupid Red Riding Hood, myself," Sarah retorted in an antagonistic tone, not moving from where she stood.

He chuckled at that, a low, pleased, very masculine laugh that tugged at Sarah's stomach, and helped her begin to remember why this supremely bad idea was yet somehow so very attractive.

"Afraid I'm going to eat you, precious?" His teasing voice ghosted out of the darkness, catching and caressing on her skin like raw silk. She shivered slightly, and saw him move then, his dark figure gracefully unfolding as he got to his feet. His upper body was in the edge of the light, now. It painted him in gold and shadows, and his teeth gleamed as his gaze flicked over her body, and he smiled wickedly at her. "Or looking forward to it?"

Sarah's resentful train of thought just went sailing out over a canyon, as he took a step up towards her. His glittering eyes showed his appreciation for her change of clothes, and their dark, knowing look told her he remembered what she was wearing underneath; and that he knew that she knew it. His expression also clearly said that whatever she may have had on, it wouldn't be for very much longer.

It was all very gratifying but extremely unnerving and flustering, and Sarah knew she was blushing again. She'd been bold faced with his bird shape – but now the look in his eyes made her throat turn dry. In retrospect, she felt like she'd gone and done something very, very dangerous. Again.

He slowly reached out to trail his gloved fingers lightly down her bare arm – she shivered markedly – and brought her hand to his lips. Lowering his intense and all-too-expressive gaze, he kissed her fingers; a light, almost chaste touch of his lips that nevertheless sent a wash of heat shooting through her. But when she tremulously re-opened her eyes to meet his…

… she felt an odd, warm surprise, because… he was eye level with her, for once, as she still stood one step above him and that was unusual and… nice; and… she'd expected that devilish, knee-weakening, knowing look in his face at seeing her react to him so obviously again, but instead of that, his eyes were – still dancing with desire and amusement, of course – but more than that, for all that his smile was taunting as ever, behind his satisfied look, for just one moment, there was something else, something hinted at in his face she'd never seen in him before; or rather, something missing - something about the mocking hardness that usually glinted in his eyes and echoed in his taunting voice… something about him that was ironic and harsh and weary and brittle, had altered, ever so slightly…

It was like … Sarah realized she'd always unconsciously associated Jareth with autumn, somehow or other, in his russet-skied Labyrinth; a dry and flamboyant and tired creature of chuckling, rustling leaves and cynical resignation; and very – only...? - capable of turning into winter's icy, implacable hostility…

- … but this, completely unexpected, all of a sudden, was like a touch of springtime.

It was gone as soon as she'd caught it, hidden again in the shifting, strange deceits of his eyes, but the impression of that one instant was incredibly vivid. He'd looked as close to genuinely …_happy_ as she had ever seen and more than she'd believed was possible for him, and it was stunning.

Sarah felt her heart sing out in response, and then clench. Her own unguarded, thrilling rush of a reaction worried her.

_Watch it, girl. _

_You're not fifteen anymore. You know the difference between lust and l…- the other thing. Don't go getting any stupid ideas here._

_Hormones. That's all this is. _

_Nothing else._

_(- "…nothing, tralala?"- )_

She looked away, somewhat slightly dazed. Trying to recover her composure, she drew in a shaky breath… then her glance happened to fall on the peach still in his other hand, and her thoughts came sharply into focus.

_Ah, yes. Let's not be forgetting, here… __Attractive, magic, sexy, seductive_, devious. cheating. bastard.

She glared at him, as he ascended the last step to her level, and gave the peach a very pointed and unfriendly look.

"Speaking of eating," she demanded sarcastically, deliberately ignoring what he'd actually meant, and brushing off the lingering after-effects of that one breathless moment, "…what the hell is that?"

He released her fingers, and looked at her with a smirk, as he brought the gold-and-blush fruit up between them with a graceful flick of his wrist. "Merely a peach, Sarah, I assure you."

She shot one hostile look at him then went back to watching the peach warily. "Where you're involved? Bullshit me muchly," she quoted from immediate memory. "Jareth, you're not coming any closer with that."

"Of course I am." And he did, taking a step towards her. She promptly took one back. "Really, Sarah," he sighed, though his tone and expression were all too obviously amused.

"_We must not look at goblin men, we must not eat their frui__t…",_ Sarah chanted, in a deliberately irritating, childlike voice, keeping her eyes resolutely on his hand.

Jareth gave her a condescending look. "So you've come across that one, after all. Such a pity for you that you didn't know it back at the time of your previous visit…" He grinned slyly. "But your quaint Victorian poem doesn't offer any guidance on the matter of kissing said goblin men, now does it, precious…? Or indeed anything else beyond that point…"

She couldn't help flicking a look at him. "Yeah, well, whatever your plans are for tonight, Jareth, your damned peaches are _not_ going to feature."

Even as she said it, Sarah immediately wished she hadn't phrased it quite that way, as her own imagination promptly supplied several possibilities. And judging by the speculative lift of his eyebrows, and his slowly widening grin, Jareth's mind was going down much the same path - and almost certainly further.

He tilted his head, smiling. "Do you really mean to tell me that this… aversion of yours stems only from previous associated experience? …Because that, Sarah mine, is an easily remedied state of affairs." There was definite, dangerous mischief in his eyes, as keeping his gaze intently on her, he raised the peach to his own mouth to bite at it.

"I'm not y– oh no you don't!!"

Sarah gasped as his other arm whipped out and yanked her close to him, and in the split second she realized what he meant to do his mouth was already slanting hotly over hers.

She felt the slickness on his lips, and before she could think to do anything to prevent it, tasted the sweet tang of the fruit juice - but any dismay she might have begun to feel was overtaken and bowled over by the rush of heat and thrilling desire that crashed through her as Jareth kissed her, as thoroughly and as masterfully as he'd ever done yet. His tongue slipped into her mouth, sudden, hot and in control, and as she faltered, he turned the kiss deep, and demanding. From her startled and half-hearted struggling against his invasion, he skilfully teased her into a response, gradually firing her desire and she soon found herself following the unspoken command of that kiss, until she was pursuing him, feeding greedily at his mouth, licking at his lips, hungrily… She tasted peach, and she felt dizzy, just as she had before, once upon a time. But the summer-sweet taste of the fruit was in Jareth's hot, wonderful kiss, and the dizziness she knew this time to be nothing else than her own desire.

Both his arms wrapped around her now, as she melded herself into his embrace, uncaring, then, rapidly, forgetting entirely that they were once again kissing in plain sight of any passers-by. Peaches, peaches, he tasted of peaches – he tingled with magic – he felt like heaven – and she wanted _more_ …

She truly couldn't say how much time had passed before he drew away, with a well satisfied smirk, his eyes very dark. She stared mutely back at him, trembling with tension, incapable of speech just-then-thank-you. She could still feel the slight stickiness on her parted lips; and meeting that knowing, heated, ever strangely-mismatched gaze boring into hers, she knew with deep certainty that, whatever else happened next, the taste of peaches would always bring a guilty erotic thrill.

She swallowed. Damn_it, he's good._

Her body felt like she was on a slow-burning fuse… Nervous, she instinctively licked her own lips clean of the last traces of that sweet, sticky taste – then froze, her stomach doing an almost painful flip as she saw his eyes instantly, as if magnetized, snap to her mouth to watch her… so _hungrily_. It was intoxicating to sense him so captivated, so focused on her - by rights she should have been scalded, standing so close, feeling the radiating heat of his desire for her … it was utterly intoxicating, and terribly unsettling.

Then his dark, burning gaze rose to meet hers again, and caught her watching him watch her. His lips slowly curved back into a wicked smile, and he deliberately brought a gloved finger to brush over her mouth with the lightest of feather touches. As her pulse jumped and her eyes half-closed again in reaction to that, he leaned in close to the side of her face.

"And if that wasn't enough to change your mind, I've plenty of other ideas," he murmured silkily, his breath warm on her cheek.

Sarah knew she shivered visibly.

"… I just bet you do", she muttered, on her second attempt, her heart still pounding wildly in her chest; and really, the sarcasm in her voice was stretched so thin as to be practically inexistent.

With oddly bird-like swiftness, he turned to steal another kiss, a brief, hot press of his lips on hers; and then settled, tipping his head back to eye her with a very self-congratulatory and smug expression indeed. Sarah sighed pointedly, but she couldn't manage to feel properly annoyed. Her heart's crazy hammering was very gradually slowing, but she still felt fired up, her skin tingling in acute awareness of him, and a warm bubbling mix of glee and trepidation rushing through her blood. With a surprised blink, she realized that her fingers were tightly curled into the cloak at his shoulders. The kiss had brought them right back to where they had been at earlier, and made pretty fluttering paper butterflies of all her suspicions. She didn't - couldn't - didn't want to move away from his arms this time. He had set her pulse racing again, and re-awoken that hot, roiling, impatient _want_ that curled and paced in her stomach, and she really, really didn't want to start arguing – or get interrupted – any more.

Jareth appeared to be of a similar opinion, because after only a few beats of smug triumph, his smile softened… no, not exactly softened, but changed to something a lot more meaningful, and the air around them suddenly seemed to thrum with electricity.

"Well, precious…" he breathed, his voice a warm caress. She felt a fresh thrill of excitement, as he stepped back a little ways, taking one of her hands firmly in his, the other – he still held the peach in the other. He glanced down at it, then immediately back up at her - and she honestly didn't know if she succeeded in scowling as he raised a suggestive eyebrow, his smile wickedly teasing. But as she squirmed, he just chuckled, and his hand moved – a flicker, too fast for her to see – and she couldn't tell if he'd magically vanished the half-eaten peach or just tossed it away into the surrounding darkness.

He looked up at her, his expression now faintly amused, but mostly, heart-poundingly intent. Not releasing her eyes, he gave her a very slight, mocking bow. He still held her outstretched hand, as he stood there facing her, and his pose looked for all the world like an old-fashioned, courtly invitation to dance. Everything about him was graceful and confident – and dangerously alluring. The night breeze teased through his pale hair, and plucked at his cloak, rippling it against and away from his black-clad form, darkness and distant glitter in its shifting folds.

As far as 'come away with me' moments went, right now the Goblin King standing on her doorstep, Sarah had to admit as she realized she was frankly staring at him, was looking pretty damn cool.

His fingers gave hers a brief squeeze. "Come along, then. …I'd best not disappear us in plain sight of any other of your fellows who might be watching…", he commented with a hint of a smirk. Not letting go of her hand, he moved away from her, flowing smoothly down the first few steps of the stairs.

…Maybe they weren't done arguing after all. Shaking off the moment of fascination, Sarah frowned slightly down at him, adjusting her bag on her shoulder as she followed the gentle but quite irresistible tug on her hand.

"Funny, you didn't seem to have any problem with vanishing in the middle of a crowd last time", she told him petulantly, thumping most ungracefully down the stairs after him.

Still holding her hand, Jareth turned at the foot of the stairs to head into the shadow of the trees beside the old brick building. He replied without turning around to face her, his voice threaded with suppressed dry laughter "It was dark, they were drunk… it was a calculated risk." He glanced back over his shoulder at her, and grinned provokingly, his eyes glinting in the last reach of the light, "And well worth it."

She scowled ferociously at him. "Jerk."

His low answering chuckle seemed of the same fabric as the surrounding darkness. They had now walked a few meters away from the lights of the building into the trees, Jareth leading her, barely making any noise in the deepening obscurity as he walked through the weeds and undergrowth that snagged and crackled under her own feet. When he stopped, and turned to her, she could hardly see anything more than his outline in the darkness.

She realized two things, then, in a very detached way. The first was that he almost certainly had perfect night vision, and that she was at a distinct disadvantage. The second, making her shake her head wryly, was.… _Stupid Red Riding Hood indeed, heading out into the woods with a hungry big bad wolf…honestly, did I not pay any attention at all in all those campus safety talks?_

She still held on to his hand. She wasn't actually afraid of him, then and there, nor of what she meant to do, but - _speaking of calculated risk…_

"Ten hours."

Her heart was beating tensely but her voice rang out clearly, with an edge of challenge, and only the faintest of interrogations. She stared at his face, ghostly dim in the shadows, trying to catch the expression in the gleam of his eyes.

"Does that seem terribly insufficient to you, too? Because… -"

"Jareth!" she snapped, cutting off his flippant response and shaking her hand from his.

"Honestly, Sarah." She couldn't quite make out his features in the darkness but his voice held a familiar, condescending tone. "You've turned out a dreadfully boring over-cautious old fusspot."

Sarah spluttered. "Excuse me?!" …For a moment she was furiously stung, and – _oh no, wait, that's his goal, isn't it_ – …With steely self-control, she crossed her arms to glare at him. "Nope. No such thing as over-cautious around you. I'd say I'm rather justified, in the light of _all _our previous encounters and after all the lousy tricks you've ever pulled on me, every step of the way… You said yourself I'd be stupid to trust you."

Her eyes had now adapted to the obscurity enough that she could just about see his weary, scornful expression, one eyebrow raised critically.

"Obviously, you only pay attention to what I say when it suits you, Sarah. Otherwise, you'd recall with equal clarity that I've already given you my word I'll bring you back," he told her pointedly, an impatient edge to his voice.

… _He did - di__dn't he…?_

She covered her hesitation with a sniff and a look of airy disdain. "You said a lot of things tonight, Jareth, I'm not sure I believe the half of them…"

For a moment her words hung, taunting, in the still darkness – then she gave a yelp of surprise as she felt his fingers hook into the waistband of her jeans and yank her towards him. Her heart quickened as, one hand still holding her close, he brought the other up to trace her jawline, with slow deliberation. His touch was light, making her shiver and causing her goosebumps, but it would accept no resistance when he finally tipped her chin up so that she had to look at him. His breath coasted warmly over her face, very close –

"…Are you calling me out, precious?"

His voice came in a soft, dangerous murmur, his lips mere inches away from hers. As she met his faintly interrogative, darkly gleaming gaze, Sarah couldn't help gulping audibly. Slowly, as if from a great distance, she felt herself untangle her arms to place her hands against his chest – the next step, she knew objectively, was to push him away, to gain an arm's length of thinking space… but she was quite unable to, caught in his hypnotic, predator's stare.

His mouth stretched in a lazy, confident grin.  
"I daresay you're right," he went on in a fractionally less threatening tone of voice, that was still all teasing and temptation and resolute intent. "Enough talking indeed – it's high time I proved myself as good as my word…"

Sarah's heart leapt to her throat as he lowered his mouth to hers. Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips brushed over hers, warm and soft and full of promise…

_- no__, wait – not yet – …what he just said – what was that – __**focus!**_

The frustration almost hurt, physically, in her chest, when she convulsively fisted her hands against his chest and pushed herself away, back a step. Her breathing was uneven as she searched his face, her eyes straining in the darkness.

"…_time_… - your word…– that's _it_, Jareth, stop trying to distract me -", the words tumbled out, her tone shifting from confusion to defiance, "– you _swear -_…"

"- that I will return you here as and when you wish."

Jareth's voice came measured and deliberate. He had gone very still when she'd moved away, and now he took the one step that brought him back close against her, and Sarah could make out the slight set to his features that told her he was keeping a tight hold on his exasperation.

His tone was clipped, and very carefully controlled. "I dislike having to repeat myself, Sarah. So while your unexpectedly developing a sense of caution was originally rather refreshing, and certainly overdue… if you persist in doubting me past my given word," he moved his hand to place one slim, gloved finger accusingly over her chest, and let a tiny part of his tense irritation edge his voice, "…you are going to _really_ tick me off."

His gaze was stern and serious to the point of harshness, in spite of his carefully casual tone and choice of words. As her heart thumped, Sarah knew three things, then - that he was really very impatient with her; that he was making a huge effort not to appear outright threatening; and that she had no desire – nor indeed strength of conviction – to push the issue any further.

_I suppose that's as good as I'm ever going to get – and __regardless, there's no _way _I'm turning back now. _

She looked down and away, silently conceding the point, and waited for a few breaths while the tense, perilous moment passed.

Slowly she uncurled her fingers, so that her palms now rested warmly on his chest. Then she lifted her eyes to his again, with a teasing, questioning look and a faint smile.

"… When you say 'ticked off', here, …you mean, more so than when you first arrived tonight, and were trying to strangle me?" she asked, provokingly.

His eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms. "I wouldn't rule that possibility out quite just yet, Sarah," he warned her in a flat voice.

"Ha!" She snorted, and gave him a critical, mocking look. "And then you wonder why I don't trust you..."

"…What I'm wondering right now, Sarah, is exactly how much more time you intend to waste here with your endless last-minute objections." His voice hadn't quite thawed out, and he still looked dangerously impatient.

Bringing her hands away, Sarah also crossed her arms, and tilted her head to one side, much like him, as if seriously pondering the matter. She waited a beat, feeling a grin of hidden exhilaration threatening to split her face. Then, eyes wide and innocent, she gifted him with a bright, sunny smile.

"… My will is as strong as yours?" she suggested sweetly.

"Don't. Even. Think. About it", Jareth growled.

Sarah fought hard not to burst out laughing. "Drat. That was my trump card", she cussed unconvincingly.

She shrugged, making a show of her empty hands. Then, the smile faded on her face as slowly, with her heart suddenly pounding in her chest and sounding very loud in her ears, she raised her eyes to meet his impatient, accusing stare, letting him read her decision in her frank gaze.

"In that case… Jareth…" she began slowly, wishing she could see his face better. He remained motionless, utterly still and silent, a sudden black hole of expectancy…

_-__ I'll say it… but if he starts cackling here, I am going to scream… -_

Sarah spoke the words very softly and carefully. "…I suppose… you win.  
- _For now!!_" she added hastily.

She hadn't missed it – a flash of sheer glee on his face – but now, unsettlingly poised, he was watching her with a mocking, inquiring expression, one finger thoughtfully on his lips.

"Say that again…?" He made the request almost lightly, but the air between them fairly hummed with his contained excitement.

"You heard me, you smug bastard," she ground out. Now she was the one with crossed arms, and a peeved look.

He didn't bother to hide his widening grin, his eyes glittering with fun and triumph. "Perhaps, but it's my turn to be annoyingly dubious – I can't quite believe you actually admitted it," he teased. She scowled.

_Ok, lack of deranged evil laughter is good, but here we go_…honestly… '_Would you care for a side order of Smirk Supreme with your Giant McGloat, Your Highness?'..._

His voice turned vibrant, low and coaxing, as he stared at her with darkly luminous eyes, his look intent and hungry.

"Indulge me, Sarah – say it again."

Ignoring a small frisson of temptation, Sarah sharply retorted, "Screw you, Jareth. I really don't feel like actively helping you gloat at me."

"_Spite_ful thing," he breathed out in a petulant reproach. But the dark smirk of glee was immediately back on his face, and he reached out and tugged her into his arms again, bringing his lips to the side of her neck – and close against his chest she honestly wouldn't have been too surprised to hear him purr in smug self-congratulation "Still, no taking it back, precious…" he whispered into her ear, the sensation and his tone making her shiver, "What's said is said… and so deliciously true…" She could taste the rich, complete satisfaction, feel his relish and utter delight in mouthing the words. _"I win."_

She tried to pull her head back a little ways to glare at him, because there was no struggling away from how he held her this time. "For _now_, Jareth…" she corrected forcefully, "this is _not_ over…"

Her angry insistence had no effect whatsoever on his wide grin, or his utterly confident tone "Also very true, sweetheart. I've so barely begun." He nuzzled at her hair, then his hands shifted, and began to move at her waist, and up her back, in a hot crawling caress that made her gasp in surprise, and then try not to moan… her fingers loosened their grip on his cloak, and her eyes half closed. "You just have to try to spoil my fun here, don't you? Such a poor loser," he crooned against the sensitive skin at her temple. "Ah well …there are other moments I've fantasized about… " Pressed against his warmth, Sarah almost whimpered - she was about to melt, what with the way his hands were… His voice turned to a promising, teasing murmur, as he kissed at her hairline and ear. "And I'm going to _get_ them, too - because _I win_… But don't fret, Sarah. You'll find I can be very generous in victory…"

Even sinking into the rising heat and sense of delicious inevitability his hands were busy instilling and encouraging in her, and feeling her body thrill in response to that dark promise, his words stirred Sarah into some last-ditch defiant protest. "Victory – the hell, Goblin King..." she breathed out through clenched teeth, struggling to repress a renewed shiver as his fingers slipped under her top into the small of her back "- you know this is only _temporary…"_

He stopped his explorations, bringing both hands to warmly rest on and hold her hips. His eyes were very bright, framed by a halo of hair that was ghostly pale in the darkness… and that could have been a gleam of teeth…

"Ah, yes. How good of you to remind me - time is short. So, precious…."

His mouth swooped down on hers, his hands suddenly cupping her face, then twining tightly into her hair, holding her face to his… his lips pressed down in a hot crush, then he was kissing her, and it was wild and sweet and wonderful. The smoldering sensations he'd started to stoke with his wandering hands now flared up inside her, seeming to spill out and across the hot, melting, yielding, electrifying point of contact that was his kiss… she pressed herself against the warm line of his body, tight, clutching at him… his feather-soft hair spilled across her upturned face, and his cloak stirred, fluttering out towards her, wafting his delicious, strange scent around her, and intoxicated, giddy with desire, she breathed in night time and spice and male…

… and old sun-warmed stone and moss and the tang of magic suddenly stronger and startling on her tongue… - Her eyes shot open in surprise, immediately taking in and recognizing the tawny sandstone walls above her and the strange texture of the light, a lingering dusk like nothing on earth – _the Labyrinth – the Castle…_

… she felt a rush of glad wonder, and a small prick of chagrin – she'd been curiously looking forward to how it would feel to travel through worlds the way he did, and she'd gone and missed it because she'd been distracted… or rather, all too concentrated on kissing him…

… the kiss that was regrettably coming to an end with warm lips leaving hers and the Goblin King…

- _Jareth_ drew away, smiling a smile of secrets, to look at her with his eyes dark and glowing and exultant, -

" - welcome back."

&&&&

_**A/N**__. You do realize that was originally going to be a 'The End', there? Tch._

_As it is, well. Things shaped up rather more oddly and amusing than projected (this was supposed to be a one-shot, people!!) and I do in fact have quite a bit more planned out. Which will, yes, involve them finally getting to bed… but seriously, you don't think those two are out of the woods yet, do you?…_

_BUT, massive major BUT of Doom – my v. important and v. busy final year begins, and in dead seriousness, I can't spare much time on this particular guilty pleasure. And really, you don't want me to rush this next bit, now do you? Of course not. _

_So – there _will_ be more. But I'm going to have to call the Entr'acte for now, draw the curtain and leave you to your own imaginations awhile. I'm sure they work just fine._

… _oh, and what J. said about the peaches? He does.  
snicker_


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N**. Apologies for the long wait - though I __**did** warn you..._

-------

* * *

Jareth slowly drew her hands away from her face, and Sarah took a few steps backwards, her gaze wandering and wondering. 

It would be a bald-faced lie to say she hadn't ever tried to imagine his bedroom – and her being in it – and…

His bed, yes, there it was – a huge, Tudor-looking thing, with high wooden bedposts and a dark, wine-red coverlet. But, she frowned slightly, it looked fairly normal, in an expensive antique sort of way… and almost out of place in the otherwise very peculiar décor.

The room was roughly circular, with a shadowy alcove of sorts curving out of sight behind a flame-coloured drape. Dozens of similar drapes and tapestries hung haphazardly down the dark stone walls, some of them revealing glimpses of intriguing, intricate embroidered patterns and images; a few lay crumpled on the floor. Half hidden amongst them was a heavy-looking door of black wood and oak. Directly opposite, a large, high, curved arch led out onto a small half-circle ledge of stone a few feet wide – a balcony of sorts, but with no rail or edgework. They must have been on a second or third floor, at least: through the arched window opening she could only see the russet skies of the Labyrinth. The warm, honey-coloured light spilled across the chamber's bare stone floor and into an odd cushion-filled pit – a circular depression some twelve feet across. It was the second strangest thing in the room.

What made Sarah stare open-mouthed was the ceiling – or what little she could see of it. It seemed high, and unaccountably dark, but the most striking thing about the whole chamber was the dozens of glinting threads and rings and baubles hanging suspended down from it. As if they were caught in a frozen rainfall of gilt and copper, everywhere strange objects hung, several feet overhead, on chains and strings of varying lengths – crystals, and wind-chime-like contraptions, twists of ivory or bone, silver half-moons and filigree stars, glowing coloured glass beads… and what looked suspiciously like an old-fashioned pocket-watch, in one corner…

_What the hell?… __He's not an owl, he's a bloody magpie… _Sarah thought distractedly, curious and still marvelling.

Eventually, however, her wide-eyed gaze shifted from staring at the bizarre suspended collection to seek out the room's owner. Jareth hadn't moved in the few minutes she'd spent gawking, and still stood a few feet away from her, arms crossed and head held at a characteristic slight angle – watching her in silence, with that strange half-smile of his.

Being on his own turf suited him. As darkly seductive and wolfish as he had looked, glittering in the night's shadows Above, here, at the centre of his domain, he seemed to have come into sharper, richer focus, almost luminous, as if drawing strength and substance from the golden glow and lambent magic in the air.

He looked comfortable, fascinating and powerful with secrets, and achingly beautiful.

When their eyes met, his smile widened a little, showing a glimpse of tooth. His glinting eyes were very… very Jareth-y.

Sarah experienced that by now almost familiar magnetic pull towards him and flicker of desire in her stomach and over her skin. She stared back at him, a touch defensively. She could tell he wasn't trying to be threatening or anything but his silent, intense scrutiny was rather disturbing. He was still, somewhat intimidatingly, in full Goblin King get-up, high-collared black cloak and ornamental breast plate… so that suddenly, for all the strangeness and her slight nervousness, Sarah had to laugh a little.

_Déja vu like whoa…_

He quirked a questioning eyebrow, the mannerism turning him a lot more human.

Chuckling, Sarah gestured vaguely towards him. "You… you look just like when you first came in the window, at my dad's house. Only, well…" Her eyes were unwillingly drawn back to the bed, and to her annoyed embarrassment she felt a slight blush come on. "Different bedroom."

…_And a whole different set of possibilities and I really don't want to think about what Dr Freud might have to say about _any_ of this._

Jareth's dry, lightly mocking voice held a hungry edge. "Yes. Mine."

He gestured at the window behind her, and one of the drapes loosened and drew closed over it, immediately turning the chamber dimmer and a whole lot more obviously intimate. The highly significant action made Sarah's heart quicken, as did the look on his face when she turned back to find him slowly walking towards her.

Correction – _stalking _towards her…

His grin was feral. "And the other, important, difference is that you are not going to be stepping out of this room - be it through the window or in any other fashion - in _these_ next thirteen hours," he warned in a heated, definite tone.

Sarah drew in a sharp breath as he halted, his pale hair luminous in the warm penumbra, very much and very distractingly in her personal space. Ignoring how her lower stomach seemed to be doing a little up-and-down dance of nervous excitement, she frowned up at him. "_Ten_ hours," she corrected.

His gleaming eyes were hooded and seemingly fixed on the sensitive spot of her neck just below her ear. Jareth smiled faintly, with apparent total indifference to her protest. "Mmm."

Damnit, she could _feel _the heat of his lips on her skin where he was staring.

… But if he really thought that just standing there oozing his predatory, uberconfident, black-leathered Goblin King smexiness all over her treacherously responding body was enough to make her ignore his blatant evasion, she was going to set him straight pronto.

"Jareth…" she began, warningly.

She'd started to raise her hands to push him back away, but his gloved fingers suddenly caught hers and he drew her close, pulling her arms down by his sides so that her chest pressed against his. His absorbed, dreamy look was gone, and he tutted reprovingly into her upturned face.

"Oh no. Wrong tone of voice." His sharp-teeth-baring grin was confident and wicked, and the look in his dark eyes was positively sultry. "That is _not_ how you are going to say my name, in this room."

Sarah's body, already very happy at being held close against him again, reacted enthusiastically to his not-so-hidden meaning. Which didn't stop her from trying to pull away, glaring at him.

"Oh yeah? Listen, Goblin King, you're not - eep!!"

Her loud reproach turned to a high-pitched gasp as his grip tightened on one of her hands, pulling her right back against him in one rough tug that half knocked the breath from her. He freed the other hand to wind fast as a snake up her back to twine in her long dark hair. His crooked arm at her shoulder blades held her close. Gently but quite irresistibly he tugged her head back, and he kissed and nipped and worried at her bared throat with hot lips and teasing teeth, while keeping her quite helplessly pinned to his chest.

_Oh. Oh, the bastard. Oh -__ oh _hell_…_

Wide-eyed, Sarah felt her heart speed up something crazy, as her breathing turned fast and shallow. The warmth and intent he was radiating were reducing her insides to hot liquid mush, and it took all her self-control not to wriggle and squirm shamelessly against him. With her free hand, she grasped at his shoulder, half for support, as her knees threatened to give way, and half attempting to push him back… sort of…

He kept up his swift, relentless, unpredictable attacks on her exposed throat for a long time, as Sarah shivered and melted all at once. Eventually his lips moved lazily, devastatingly, down along the quivering skin of her neck, until his tongue suddenly flicked at the hollow of her throat.

"Ja …reth…" she gasped - and her voice caught, sounding constricted and breathless and not far from pleading.

As she heard it and realized she mentally cursed herself. And him.

His hand uncoiled from her hair to slink down to her waist, loosening his embrace and not holding her quite so immobilized and frazzlingly close against him. Sarah felt dizzy – she almost teetered as more of her weight came back onto her trembling legs. He released her other hand and raised his head to look at her with a heated, satisfied smirk.

"Better," he crooned contentedly, and laid a teasing kiss just on the corner of her lips. "Much, much better ..."

"I - …You…." If it hadn't been for that infuriating smugness of his, Sarah would have just thrown herself back at him. She felt exasperated and frustrated beyond belief, her body most distractingly aroused and wordlessly begging for more. "You are such a smug, bullying…leech!"

"Tch. And you were doing so well." He shook his head in mock reproach, grinning. "Really, princess. Learn to lose. I _have_ you back here in my room, so stop fighting me – and yourself…" His hands stayed at her waist, holding her flush against him, as his thumbs started to move in slow, insistent circles just on the inside of her hips.

"Because you didn't want me to stop, just then – and you want me to do that again, and more, much more…." His voice was low and forceful and compelling, and not so much come-hither as already sliding invisible hands under her clothes. "You want me……Don't you, precious? …"

Jareth's smile was pure sexual anticipation and dark relish - and his _eyes_ were just…

She gulped.

Everywhere he'd been kissing just moments ago felt hot and itchy and discontented. His lips brushed feather-soft and achingly teasing over her cheek and side of her face, as gloved fingers traced twin hypnotic spirals against her skin, and he went on, in a warm, deliberate murmur.

"Oh_ yes_, Sarah mine, you desperately want… You want me to …touch you… - and taste you…" His mouth moved back down to lap at the hollow of her throat, then she shivered as his teeth grazed over her collar bone, and his voice dropped to a forceful, husky whisper. "…and…lay you on that bed right there and _take_ you…" His hands stilled and tightened, and he nipped swiftly at her shoulder - there, then gone. Sarah's knees almost gave again as she jerked reflexively; then, eyes closed, and heart pounding in her almost painfully tight chest, she felt his hot breath skirl over the teased skin.

"You _want_ this… you want me – you wish that the Goblin King would _take_ you - _right. Now. _…Don't you… …**Sarah...?"**

As if he hadn't been affecting her badly, read goddamn unbearably, enough… Sarah's mind tripped, concussed and rolled over in the velvet caress and the rich, melted-chocolate-and-sex sensation of how he uttered her name, lilting, against her cheek.

Her body was turning to a hot, lustful quivering wreck, and her lips trembled with the nigh-irresistible temptation to just frantically babble _yes,yes,yes,yes,yes,__**yes!!!**_

She screwed her eyes tightly shut, drawing a deep ragged breath. She could have wept.

_So.__ Not. Fair!_

"…What you take, is… a whole lot… for granted, Goblin King…" she managed to retort, haltingly.

Soft, dangerous, _sexual_ laughter. "Do I?... Shall I?"

_-__YES!_

A gloved finger traced her jawline, tilting her head up to face him. She felt his lips just brush over hers again, his words warm tantalizing breaths coasting over her mouth. "My so very impossible, aggravating…and most… _delicious_… Sarah…" he whispered. The dark amusement and erotic promise in his voice she felt slither over her skin and up her spine, and she heard herself whimper in unthinking response... -

…_Argh!! - F__uckfuckfuckfuckFUCK him!! _

_- In both senses of the word!!_

Her eyes snapped open to glare at him, as she made a strangled noise of seething frustration and impatience, and clawed her fingers into his shoulders.

"_Will_ you - just shut the hell up, and _kiss_ me already," she growled, tugging and leaning hungrily in towards him.

Jareth drew his head back, smirking wickedly. "Pushy…" he criticized. "Pushy, pushy, pushy, princess. Say 'please.'"

Her breath caught on something between need and rage. "You… -! " She bared her teeth at him and hissed in his face like a furious cat. "You arrogant, _petty_, evil gloating…- "

"- alluring, irresistible, _generous_…" - he interjected in a rich, taunting, sing-song voice, his dark eyes laughing at her.

"- patronizing, impossible, fat-headed, conceited and de_luded__ bas_tard," she spat out, scowling, and shoving herself back, as much as she could with him still holding her - which wasn't far at all. "You are _such_ a jerk when you figure you're ahead of the game."

"Ahead? Precious, I _win_." Jareth seemed supremely untroubled in his smugness. "And for all your venom, princess, you want me. Badly." He grinned, utterly confident and entertained. "Now, _you_ shut up - and I'll kiss you."

As she didn't immediately respond to that but merely glared daggers at him, breathing hard, he chuckled, sexily, and, cupping her chin with one gloved hand, lowered his face towards her. He pulled her close and she closed her eyes and felt his breath on her lips that parted almost of their own volition –

"… are-such-a bastard", she muttered in one resentful breath.

He stopped short, and drew back to fix her with a mocking look. His eyes glittered in amusement as they met her infuriated stare, and one painted eyebrow arched critically upwards. His fingers at her jaw weren't applying any pressure to keep her face tilted up expectantly towards his, and they both knew it.

"For that, I _should_ make you say please."

Sarah gritted her teeth together, ignoring the incredible temptation of his so close and oh-so-kissable lips. "Please - give me a _break,_Goblin King, and get real," she bit out – "I am _not_ begging you."

"- Yet…", he smoothly amended, with silky menace; but nevertheless, his mouth came down to warmly cover hers.

There was a sort of silent collective cheer from her relieved and ecstatic hormones, even though she was still mentally cursing him and his damn smirking face and his damned cleverdick innuendoes and his damn cheating, wandering… _ah_… distracting hands - that were moving over her waist and the small of her back again - …. and above all and especially, she cursed and hated the infuriating, totally unfair fact that he was such a damned good kisser.

…OK, so maybe she didn't actually _hate_ it.

… OK, so it was fucking wonderful. He was still an insufferably smug, entitled bastard.

…who just happened to be an absolutely a_maz_ing kisser.

The melting, electrifying sensation of his mouth skilfully possessing hers was completely mellowing her and making her giddy and dizzy and desperate, as she kissed him back as best as she could. Taking his own sweet time about it, Jareth thoroughly claimed her mouth, his hot tongue exploring leisurely and outmanoeuvring her with a lazy, arrogant, king's confidence. He held her firmly pressed against him, and she couldn't shield herself from feeling his desire, the heat of him, making her own body react, instinctively shifting and seeking to fit itself closer, tighter yet… Her mind was half come unravelled by his sweet, forceful assault on her senses. And still he kissed her, deep and delicious and relentless… as if he had all the time in the world, as if there weren't the slightest hint of a possibility of a chance of his ever drawing away – as if he were somehow feeding at her mouth, with hunger and relish, and would neither tire of her nor stop unless she _were_ to beg him, breathlessly ... and not even then…

_And__I'm betting he's made quite certain there'll be no outside interruptions _here, was one of her last fully coherent thoughts, before they all just dissolved into sensation and pleasure…

_- …oh, he tastes so good…_

Through her thin top and his leather gloves she felt his warm touch running over her sides and ribcage, teasing, then voluptuously caressing as his hands curled around her, one at her shoulders, the other reaching lower, drawing her insistently against him, his fingers digging into the back of her thigh – her chest tensed and her stomach rippled with pleasure and need, as she arched towards him in response, and she felt his hold on her reflexively tighten…

She vaguely registered a thump as her bag slipped off her shoulder to the ground, then she had her both her arms wrapped around him, her hands reaching up under the warm, heavy material of his cloak to clutch at his shoulders and just desperately hang on, out of breath and her mind spinning from the enticing scent of him and the sweet, glorious heat of his embrace and kiss.

Insofar as she was still capable of making a conscious decision, Sarah figured she would be blissfully content to just keep kissing him this way, for the whole of the ten hours, and then even longer.

Like, forever.

Except that other parts of her body, which were tight and hot and pressed right up against him, were petitioning with increasing insistence and eloquence for more things to start happening.

And_ soon._

…She was never quite sure afterwards if it really had been one knee accidentally giving way under her, as both had been threatening to do for some time, or if she had actually taken that small tentative step backwards, knowing his bed was behind her.

Deliberate or no, her wavering back a couple of inches was all he needed to instantly, explosively react. Her eyes opened in surprise and she drew a sharp, ragged breath as he released her mouth – making her lips ache with the sudden loss – and both his hands firmly gripped her waist to prevent her stumbling as he walked her backwards a few fast steps. Her heart leaped as she felt the edge of the bed bump against the back of her legs, but he halted and didn't push her off balance, and with the same decisive swiftness bent his face back over hers. She barely had time to register their new position or to catch sight of his expression before her eyes fluttered shut again, a gasp escaping her lips just before his pressed down once more.

She delightedly welcomed his mouth's return to hers, but after just one hot, forceful first assault, he changed to kiss her with such softness this time, sweet and tantalizingly light… she unconsciously moved in towards him, feeling cheated and hungrily seeking more. He drew slowly back, and she followed him… then realized what she was doing, and opened her eyes to see his own mismatched gaze glittering very close, warm and teasing.

Incapable of speech, Sarah swore loudly in her head.

Her irritation at his obnoxious and now, it would seem, _permanent_ smugness had just begun to rise and fight her arousal, when his eyes flicked meaningfully to the bed and back, and he raised an interrogative eyebrow at her, in a blatantly suggestive look – and Sarah's mind turned hot and blank. His own gaze was very dark, but then his expression turned mocking again, and his hands moved at her waist, clasping her as if he were preparing to toss her onto the bed.

He tensed his fingers and leaned in towards her, with a condescending smirk.

"Make a wish, little girl…", he suggested, tauntingly. His voice was rough.

She swallowed angrily. "Screw you", she shot back tightly.

Jareth grinned with relish. "Oh, done and _done_." He gave a sort of warm growl of a laugh, and in one sudden, seemingly effortless movement he'd half-pushed, half-lifted her onto the bed, and in another he had joined her. "That was remarkably accommodating of you, for once", he added flippantly.

Sarah found herself a bit breathless, both from suddenly landing on her back and … well, from suddenly landing on her back on a bed belonging to a certain Goblin King now poised above her and grinning, the glint in his eye making plain his dishonourable intentions.

"You're taking liberties", she retorted critically, if with an involuntary slight smile. "Those were never the right words."

His answering grin was wolfish. "They'll do just fine, for now – and as for taking liberties - oh, princess," his voice trailed off into a whisper, " you have no idea ..."

Sarah's mouth felt a bit dry but, "Nor do you," she countered promptly, "if you really think you're just getting things all your own way here…"

Jareth's lips stretched in an arrogant, taunting smile. "I am really, very certain that I'm going to get exactly what I'm after, here," he said decisively. His grin turned leering. "But 'just'? Do tell, what more are you offering, precisely?"

"How's about my fist in your smirking face?" she threatened.

His lips twitched. "Not what I had in mind." Jareth sighed, exaggeratedly. "…Please refrain, sweetheart – I'd hate to have to tie you down." He paused. "Actually, I tell a lie. I wouldn't." He suddenly dropped to murmur in her ear in a very low and disturbing purr. "I _really_ wouldn't."

His tongue flicked swift and startling at her earlobe and Sarah jerked away with a gasp. Before she could react to his words he'd drawn back, a wicked smirk just disappearing from his face as he eyed her condescendingly, and went on in a chiding tone. "But however attractive that particular notion may be, it can wait… – for this time, I don't want you to be able to _whine_, after, that I was _cheating_ and that you were helpless to prevent me having my wicked way with you here– and have you try to claim that you didn't…" - he raised a taunting eyebrow, curling his hand around her waist and pointedly watched her move instinctively into the caress – "…_want_ this."

She glared at him, to the best of her abilities while struggling to get over her body's unsettling, hot reaction to his dark suggestions _( and he needs to stop with that 'this time' business…! )_ and touch. "…You _are_ a lousy cheat, though."

"And you," he fixed her with a critical stare, a weary amusement and hungry impatience coming through in the arch tone of his voice, "are far too stubborn for your own _good_."

The way he said the last word was emphatic and immediately appropriate, as he swooped down, his mouth smothering the inevitable retort that was forming on her lips. He kissed her hard and thoroughly, bruising her lips and raking his tongue through her mouth… and after all of ten seconds she let go of the sharp words and just concentrated on enjoying the sensations of his mouth on hers – and of lying under him, covered by his midnight cloak and his warm, taut body pressing her down into the bed…

_Room, bed__, and under him_, a scrap of her rapidly tattering mind noted wryly… _and what next, Goblin King?_

The gloved hand at her waist moved, gently pulling at her and massaging, and following that insistent tug she arched up under him, her breasts pressing against his leather-encased chest. He shifted, tangling his legs with hers,

-_yeah, I'm not the only one who _wants,_here ... -_

his fingers digging into her sides as his other hand curled in her hair – then both hands tightened, for an instant holding her down as he swiftly tore his mouth away from hers – dragging a small whimper from her lips in the wake of its departure – to lay a hot, open mouthed kiss on the bare skin over her breastbone, and she gasped, her body tensing and moving against him in some instinctive, exultant response.

Jareth paused then, and she felt his lips curve against her sensitised skin. He drew back, to stare down at her lying under him. His intent gaze made Sarah acutely aware of her dishevelled appearance: cheeks flushed, lips parted, and her hair in disarray as she stared back at him. There was no way she could, had she cared to, hide what she guessed to be her very visible arousal.

He grinned widely in satisfaction. He looked, disarmingly, so very openly and blatantly pleased, his strange eyes dark with hunger but also shining in sheer triumphant delight.

His taunting, Sarah knew how to react to, but this was… to be perfectly honest, pretty damn flattering, and quite a turn-on, but even feeling all warm and fuzzy (and horny, and her lips bruised and her skin tingling), she frowned half-heartedly at him and swatted at his arm.

"_Will_ you stop _gloating?_" she demanded irritably.

He laughed, a deliciously content, liquid sound. "Not likely."

It was nearly impossible to resent this joyous Jareth, and she wanted to wrap his warm laugh around her, and wrap herself around him… but Sarah still tried. "Smug bastard," she muttered, and crossed her arms on her chest, eying him darkly. He snickered at her expression, then his look turned critical.

"Not after the considerable time and effort I had to expend in order to actually get you here…," he added, smirking but with a scolding edge to his voice.

Sarah gave a pointed, exaggerated sigh. "Oh, here we go again. You're exhausted, you've turned the world upside down, etc, etc…" She rolled her eyes provokingly. "Cry me a river, Your Majesty, and go soak your self-pitying fat head."

Jareth drew in a breath in a hiss, and he scowled down at her. "This, from the girl who so _desperately_ begged to be rescued from the tragic, soul-crushing _horror_of an evening's babysitting ..." His thin lips curled back from his teeth.

"I was fifteen and hormonal. What's your excuse?" Turning her expression coolly challenging, Sarah nettled him with reckless, vindictive glee. "And honestly, I don't see what you're complaining about this time – we're here in bed, after all, and a half-hour argument is hardly moving the stars, Jareth, or are you getting old?"

She saw his jaw clench. "You…." He stopped himself, probably because he was sounding rather miffed, and gave her a long withering look. Then he raised one scornful eyebrow. "… Are you always this irritating, or do you do it _just_ for me?" he inquired scathingly.

Sarah smirked, truly enjoying herself. "What do you think?"

His lips twitched; but then he narrowed his eyes, his expression appraising and dangerous as he looked down at her.

"I think… that we are, as you said, here in bed – and I am going to wipe that self-assured little smile off your face, princess."

The obvious intent behind that threat sent a small hot thrill through her stomach but she still just grinned widely. _I'm way ahead of you, Goblin King…_

"…Bring. It. On…" she chanted with careless challenge, as she wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck.

"Aggravating creature." He followed her slight pull, lowering himself to his elbows and pressing his body hard against hers as his lips went to tease by her ear again. "You really don't know when to stop, do you?…" he murmured, in a tone that was just a touch amused, slightly more than a touch annoyed, and even a little – _ominous_ -

Biting down on a slight gasp, Sarah arched up towards him. "Stop? Are we ever even getting started?" she asked cattily.

Jareth drew back, propping himself on one elbow to eye her. "Of all the nerve." He gave her a stern look, but his lips were beginning to curve slowly up. "You're the one who kept … delaying... things, sweetheart," he reminded her, but his voice turned from chiding to definitely threatening and suggestive as he went on, with one hand inching over her waist, "…and believe me – I intend to return the favour…"

_**Uh**__-oh_, a little voice in Sarah's mind said, very quietly. But with a wide, devil-may-care grin she just pulled him down into another kiss.

Whatever mischief Jareth had in mind –and unfortunately she had no doubt that he had – he seemed happy enough to comply with her unspoken directions for the moment, and obligingly kissed her with the same stomach-warming and toe-curling skill and thoroughness he'd shown so far.

For a long moment there was nothing to the world but a hot tangling of tongues and limbs, satisfyingly amounting to what Sarah could only call serious snogging. And in spite of his menacing announcement, his hands were fast growing quite bold in their explorations, making her heart speed up and her skin thrill in their wake as they traveled over her thin top and bare shoulders …

She was more than willing to repay him in kind; as a matter of fact she was aching to touch him – but most frustratingly her fingertips kept butting against the hard leather casing of his breastplate or snagged in his cloak or collar.

_Oh, for - __Fancy and intimidating all right but damnit, Goblin King…!_

Just as she was about to voice her reproach, Jareth drew away, with a knowing grin. Poised above her, his arms tense, he closed his eyes, and his brow furrowed briefly in concentration.

His shoulders shuddered, in an odd, controlled motion that ran swiftly down his entire body, like some great cat shaking off water. Staring at him in confused surprise, Sarah suddenly gave an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak, as, under her fingers that were resting over his collarbone, she felt a surge of a strange prickling – tingling – no, _fizzing_ sensation. Startled, she withdrew her hands sharply. Jareth's folded leather breastplate and heavy night-coloured cloak had rippled in the wake of his movement, and then, as she watched, bemused… just …_dissolved_, revealing a black shirt that gaped open on his pale chest. Sarah raised half-angry half-wondering eyes to meet his self-assured gaze.

- "OK, that wa…- Ouch!"

She wasn't even sure if she meant to say _creepy_ or _cool_, but she yelped in surprise and jerked her head back reflexively, as something clipped her sharply on the nose. She blinked in confusion, then, eyes narrowed in annoyance more than pain she looked for what had…

His crescent-shaped pendant that had been embedded in the breastplate now hung on a cord round his neck, and dangled below his torso and above her, swinging back and forth.

Jareth looked down, and his expression was a conflicted mix of laughter and startled, _almost_ embarrassed surprise.

"Whoops."

With a self-deprecating chuckle, he shifted his weight and reached with one gloved hand to still the pendulum swing of the heavy bronze amulet.

Shuffling up into a half-sitting position, Sarah glared at him, indignant. He gave her a quite unconvincing apologetic look, before his grin widened irrepressibly.

"Clumsy," he commented in a tone of light self-reproach, his laughing eyes teasing her. "I must be out of practice."

Sarah's mouth gaped briefly, then snapped closed. "Yeah, right. I really don't think I believe that - and I really don't want to know, either," she responded flatly.

He tilted his head, smirking. "Why, precious, you flatter me." His voice positively rippled with barely suppressed amusement.

"That wasn't a compliment, you damn pretentious… _male_," she snapped irritably. Her nose still stung a bit. She rubbed it, shivered with a small after-effect of the surprise, and looked at him accusingly – in spite of an almost irresistible urge to just ogle his half-bared chest. "Jareth, would you mind awfully not pulling weird-shit stunts like that?!" she demanded in an exasperated tone. "This is all bizarre enough as it is without you just dissol…"—her eyes widened then suddenly, and she gripped tightly at the neckline of her top, glaring at him – "Try it, and die."

Jareth paused, briefly, painted eyebrows raised in mild interrogation. Then he moved – silent and irresistible and suddenly feline – to lean on his elbows either side of her shoulders, lowering his upper body so as to make her lie down beneath him again. His open shirt brushed against her chest, a few warm inches from his, and the amulet was a small weight on her breastbone. His pale hair spilled down to frame his newly gleaming gaze and small, quiet, suddenly dangerous smile. Like a shadow flitting across the moon, the bright dancing mirth in his eyes was gone, chased away by a different, far darker and more predatory amusement. The change made Sarah shift nervously beneath him, her own eyes wide. Her stomach tightened when he spoke, his low voice like burning black velvet.

"Now why would I want to do something as … hasty as that?" he asked softly.

Sarah started as he moved one hand to trail suddenly and lightly up her side. His small, confident smile grew a little, and he combed his fingers through the hair at her temple in a lazy, playful gesture.

"… True," he added in a lighter tone, "the image of you suddenly naked and squawking in indignation is entertaining enough…" … she just about managed to frown at that, as the familiar, mocking smirk momentarily reappeared on his face, but her annoyance vanished in a gasp as he unexpectedly ducked his head to whisper in her ear- "but why waste the chance to make you whimper?"

His free hand left her hair to snake over her ribcage, and in spite of herself she instinctively arched into the caress.

"No, princess, no magic – no shortcuts…" His voice was too warm to be a growl, far too dangerous to be a purr, and his breath was hot on her cheek. "No mercy either… I am going to _peel_ your clothes off you, inch by inch, until you're writhing under me, sweet, and begging me to be done. And at that point, - well… I won't even have _started _on you."

Sarah's throat had gone very dry, and didn't seem to be working properly. The rest of her body had apparently turned into a single overheated puddle of erotic apprehension.

His hand moved away from her hair to play lightly down along the thin strap of her top, then just under it, nudging it ever so slightly to one side – then his mouth followed the path of his fingers, the touch of his lips soft and teasing…

Sarah's eyes closed for a moment as she weakened in a hot wash of temptation… but then snapped open to fix him in bright-eyed defiance, as she gave a sharp shove up against his chest.

"Not bloody _likely"_, she told him tightly.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise as she wrapped her arms around his neck and lunged upwards to kiss him, aggressively. She felt him chuckle against her mouth as she scrambled up, pushing him back into a sitting position, using her hands to both pull herself up and tug his open shirt down over his shoulders. The soft material seemed to be linen but finer and lighter than anything she'd seen or touched before, and his pendant was a polished, cool shape under her hurried, questing fingers. She ran her hands roughly over his shoulders and chest, delighting and marvelling at his warmth and contrasting …solidity; rigid planes and tension under silky-smooth pale skin she'd longed to touch since she'd first glimpsed it at his open collar; since he'd first pinned her against the door, and pressed his hard body against hers... Jareth stayed motionless, sitting back on his heels, and let her angrily, hungrily kiss him, until she broke off and leaned in towards him to pull the fabric down the length of his lean arms…

- and then, in one sudden, lightning-fast movement Sarah found herself kneeling, unbalanced, eye-level with his chest, her wrists tightly wrapped in the folds of his shirt and pinned against him.

Heart pounding, she raised her eyes to meet Jareth's dark stare. There was a taunting confidence and amusement in the curl of his lip, but also a slightly edged, intent seriousness in his gleaming eyes as he scrutinized her flushed and scowling face. She tried his grip on her hands briefly, and it tightened – she stilled, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of her struggling, or let the realisation of her disadvantage show in her eyes as she silently, defiantly met his probing gaze.

Jareth tilted his head, his expression and tone somewhere between teasing and quizzical. "You're really not very good at surrendering, are you?"

Sarah snorted derisively. "Get real, Jareth. I agreed to come back here for ten hours - calling that surrender is assuming waaaay too much."

He gave her an amused, condescending look, an eyebrow quirking up critically. "For someone who liked her traditional fairytale romances so much, you make a very poor ravished heroine, Sarah."

"Really, Goblin King… " She gave him a tight, vicious smile of her own, her expression challenging. "If you expected me to go "eek" and swoon helplessly in your arms, then you obviously weren't paying attention last time I kicked down your castle."

Jareth's eyes narrowed, and his grip on her wrists grew a little harder. "You think? You seem to forget that we're playing a very different game this time …"

She refused to let him intimidate her. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, so you keep saying," she responded airily, then shot him an insolent, careless grin. "Less taunting, more ravishing, please."

His jaw set at that provocation, and moving rather suddenly, he shoved her back onto her back, freeing their hands, as he followed her down to press one hard, punishing kiss against her lips. "You obstreperous, demanding little hussy," he accused, as one hand raked roughly – _oh_ – all over her, and her breath caught and her body jerked in its wake. He gripped at her waist, pulling her up towards him. "I see I'm going to have to find better uses for that impudent," he lowered his face to kiss her again, lingering, this time, worrying and nipping at her lower lip, "- _tasty_ - mouth of yours…", he growled.

His hot, irritated hunger was heady and darkly thrilling. Shivering in delighted anticipation, but keeping her self-possessed, slightly teasing smile, Sarah untangled her hands from his shirt and reached out to explore his chest. "See, I can work with you on that," she purred – "just keep the surrender crap out of all this…"

Jareth stilled, and smiled a very strange smile then.

"What a pity."

His voice was very soft, and edged with a rasp like a blade drawn through velvet. He stared down at her, with an oddly assessing look on his sharp, shadowed features and Sarah found herself utterly unable to define what she saw peering from the depths of his dark, mismatched, dissimulating, _not human_ eyes at that moment…

Her chest tightened, as her hands froze where they touched him, and every muscle in her body seemed to tense. The warning shot through her mind like quicksilver, from some primal part of her brain: – _ Don't. Flinch. Now…_

Then with a tiny shake of his head, he smiled, and the light shifted in his eyes, and she could breathe freely again, the dark throb of… something had passed and vanished almost instantly.

"So much for those unspeakably evil fantasies then," he said, in a murmur threaded with a chuckle.

Sarah's jaw had slackened slightly. Much as she hated to admit it, he had seriously unnerved her just there… and now he was _joking_ about it? And if he wasn't, then…

Her rush of adrenaline rapidly turned from fear to anger. "You _creep_," she exclaimed with furious, shaky scorn, shoving up against him.

Jareth laughed and fell aside, to recline gracefully on one elbow as he watched her, looking quite simply the impossibly sexy bastard again. "But it's such a temptation, precious, to widen those glorious green eyes of yours," he protested, in an altogether too male and enticing a smoky tone of voice. He grinned, and his eyes glittered in disturbingly knowing amusement. "And besides, I'm still not sure you don't secretly enjoy me being all villainous…"

Sarah scowled. "OK, stop it _right_ there, Goblin King - "

His grin only widened. "Stop? I really think not." He reached out, and with one arm and very little effort pulled her against him, to hold her tucked in the curve of his body, her back pressed against his warm bare chest and his arm firmly wrapped around her waist holding her in place. She struggled against his grip – and other things she could feel against her ass - then stilled suddenly as his voice came in a hot, teasing whisper, his lips brushing against the sensitive shell of her ear.

"Relax, princess, - " he chuckled again, loosening his arm enough that she could turn and try to glare at him, and he gave her an amused, devastatingly warm smile. "I'm really rather taken with the idea of you undressed and willing in my bed."

And that arrogant, half-assed sort-of admission really should not have affected her quite the way it did, Sarah thought critically, as he bent his head to kiss her again and all she found to do, instead of punching his smug face, was to feel a delighted, hungry thrill and eagerly turn to embrace him… The bastard _was_ irresistible when he properly applied himself, she mentally lamented.

Being held very close and snogged very thoroughly by a shirtless Jareth who had just more-or-less confessed he desired her, and whose body was providing emphatic confirmation of this fact, was one of the most heady and wonderful experiences in either worlds, Sarah then decided, even as she felt quite certain it would rapidly be surpassed. The way he moved then, slinkily, to slide his thigh between her legs – she gasped against his mouth, and he barely let her draw breath before pressing both his mouth and his hips down against her – for instance, was an immediate improvement – and it would be even better if the fingers that were lying with frustrating idleness at her waist were to deliver on their hinting suggestions and slide over her skin and pull up her shirt so that she could rub herself against the warm, glorious, intoxicatingly scented skin of his bare chest…

He freed her mouth to trail swift searing kisses along her jaw line, until he was back at her ear. "Still…" he murmured, and his voice, though low and vibrant, was still terribly teasing, "if you ask me _very_ nicely, I promise I'll be cruel to you next time…"

"…As_ if_," Sarah retorted bitingly, her breath short.

Jareth just laughed, and kissed her again.

----

* * *

_Chapter 8 coming very soon. Promise._

_(and ZOMG yes they are in bed but still only (mostly) talking about it!1!!one! ...I know, you all want to kill me.)_


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N.** Well now._

_This chapter took a freakish huge amount of work to get right, letting alone the fact that I had little spare time to do so – oh, and also that it was never supposed to happen._

_That it exists is due to a few discussions with **yodeladyhoo**, and **Subtilior**, and what it turned out to be is thanks to much helpful feedback from the selfsame Lady S. and from **Anij**, and prodding and inspiration by the ubertalented **Lily-Fox** over on DeviantArt – go check my bio for a link to her most delicious and hot piece of JS fanart evah. You owe her, folks._

_And a whole lot of other people's encouragement/nagging._

_It's also probably not quite what you were expecting._

_Warning for Serious Issues, Sudden Angst … and yeah, some smut. _

* * *

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. 

They had broken apart from a kiss that left Sarah gasping, her lips numb and desperate for more and what felt like a furnace roaring in her chest, setting her afire with wanting him. She'd stared up at Jareth, panting, and seen that faint mocking smile still at the corner of his mouth, his face a study in warm shadows – and he'd bent over her to brush his hot lips over hers, then tip her face back, with a light touch of his gloved fingers, to nibble at her jaw. The little bites flared at her senses and buzzed on her skin, like sparks of electricity, exciting and teasing – but Sarah didn't want electricity, didn't need it, was long past it - she wanted to burst into flames and she wanted him to burn with her. Even as her head fell back and she moved in his arms and against his leg, she mentally cursed him – he was still teasing her, damnit, and his other hand was only a few inches under her shirt – he was taking too _long_, and she realized she still didn't trust him not to try and sneakily take control of the situation and make good on his threats … _The best form of defense is attack_, Sarah had thought wildly, only slightly aware of the possibility that crazed hormones were seriously affecting her judgment.

With a small grunt of determination, she'd sharply pushed him back, sitting upright, and in one hurried motion pulled her top off, to glare at him in her bra. _There._

_That's put paid to __any of your making-me-squirm ideas, whatcha gonna do about that?_ she had silently challenged, with a bright-eyed stare, her breathing hard. Jareth had been fazed for all of half a second, before he very swiftly responded to that provocation - moving towards her in one liquid rush to pull her into his arms. One hand at her back held her firmly as the other caressed her sides and lightly played with the black lace edgings, and Sarah felt her head fall back, dizzy, as his mouth moved down her neck and her breastbone. His skin felt so warm and wonderful against hers, and if there was a low sound vibrating in his chest that might have been a chuckle she didn't give a damn – it was a pleased noise, and male, and as she pressed herself against him and clutched at his shoulders it had altered, roughening and turning into something primal and hungry, and a small part of Sarah had smiled in satisfaction. But the rest of her was just reeling in heat and sensation, letting pure instinct take over.

She felt so light-headed she hadn't even registered their moving from sitting to horizontal as he gently tipped her over, barely noticed her shoulders pressing against the bed … all she cared about was Jareth following her down, still trailing hot kisses over her chest and his weight on her feeling absolutely perfectly right and necessary …

Then unexpectedly his body was gone and - he suddenly ran his tongue all the way down to her navel, and Sarah gasped in shock and jerked underneath him. Eyes wide, she looked down to find him watching her, his hands holding her hips – and her breath caught in an unwilling whimper to see his eyes, dark and glinting with all kinds of mischief and sinful promise, so low down on her body … This time his heated laughter was clear, as it scattered over her skin, and cold on the wet trail left by his tongue – and even as her stomach churned in anticipation she mentally groaned. He was much, much better at this than she was, and her initiative had most certainly only played into his hands.

But as he moved back up over her again, his lips finding the sensitive hollow above her collar bone, Sarah figured that being in his hands… his extremely capable hands now on her breasts… was in fact a rather incredible and delightful place to be.

She buried her fingers into his soft mess of hair and pulled Jareth towards her to kiss him, quite wantonly – fiercely, desperately wanting to spread the heat that was boiling in her blood to him and see that smirk finally vanish – but then she lost her concentration, as he cupped her breast, almost hard, and a thumb brushed over her nipple … She shuddered underneath him and made a small noise into his mouth, and that he very obviously _did_ like – his own side of the kiss immediately turned more forceful, and just a little less controlled and _'ah-ha'_, went a small triumphant voice in her mind … but it was scarcely audible in the clamour made by the rest of her thoughts which were just chanting _more more __**more**_…

Jareth broke away. Although losing his mouth on hers wildly distressed her, Sarah was pleased to note his breathing was faster now. Lying on his side he tossed a leg up, so that his thigh pinned her hips, with a very obvious sense of _you're not going anywhere_, and swiftly tugged off one black leather glove with his teeth. Sarah stared in fascination at his long, pale fingers, as he dealt with the remaining glove in the same determined and efficient fashion, and tossed both aside.

He wore a ring on his left index finger. Sarah caught at his hand, intrigued. Jareth humoured her for a moment, holding still, with a slight smile, as she examined the swirl of silver metal – then shook his hand from her grasp. His mouth covered her startled moan as he palmed her breast again, and his leg slid back down between hers.

… _! – __**oh **__… oh, gods …_

The feeling of his bare fingers on her was … was …was just _different,_ and if he'd been making her melt before Sarah had no words for what his touch was doing to her now. It really wasn't fair, and she really didn't care. His business-like, deliberate action in discarding his gloves somehow seemed incredibly erotic and it had opened a floodgate of sudden, overpowering, hot realization and a terrifying, delicious sense of inevitability.

_He is going to put his hands on me – all over me – we're really going to do this__ (hurray)…_

…And reminded her of something important.

_Oh, __**crap**_

In spite of the heat that had spread through her whole body and was wrapping around her thoughts, Sarah swallowed, and somehow managed to find her voice.

"Jareth… wait -"

Jareth never paused as he kissed down her throat, eyes hooded and his voice level, and rough. "No. Too late."

Sarah's eyes slammed shut and she had to bite down on a gasp as his fingers suddenly wandered south, just under the waistline of her jeans. He didn't seem at all inclined to pay the slightest heed to her protest, and the dangerous edge to his voice made her heart leap to her throat in a way that didn't have very much to do with fear.

"No, exactly –" she tried again, grasping at his arm. "Before this gets any further…"

It was the wrong thing to say and Jareth's chuckle was dark and hot against her skin, as his fingers promptly shot an inch lower into her jeans, brushing over the elastic of her panties. Sarah flinched and felt herself tighten, a silent whimper caught in her throat as his voice came whispering in her ear.

" '…_further_'? Sarah? …further?"

She clenched her teeth and fisted her hands in the coverlet, willing herself to ignore his tantalizing spider-legs touch – that touch that was drawing _so goddamned close _-

"I … no – Jareth … wait …" she tried again, but her own tongue was tripping her up. "I don't want …"

His tormenting fingers stilled, but only for his other hand to brush light and teasing over her chest, on its way to wind in her hair and draw her closer to him, and she could hear the smile in his ruthlessly seductive murmur –

"Oh, yes, you do – you want very much, precious …"

She tried to push him back, but he merely used her movement to better position himself above her, his hips effectively pinning her lower body as he bent his head to trail hot kisses and a hint of teeth over her breasts, just along the cups of her bra, and Sarah gasped, her hands on his shoulders reflexively going from pushing to clutching at him. Her voice came halting, breathless.

"Please – No – I mean yes … yes … I …"

She drew in a deep ragged breath, eyes wide – and –

- and the memory of sermons by her mother who tended to overcompensate for her absences with long, _long_ heart-to-heart mother-daughter talks full of warning advice about Man's dastardly nature, and years and years of Sex Ed and prevention slogans were rooted deeply enough in Sarah's brain to now succeed in grabbing control and slamming on the brakes. It hurt, the frustration just clawing at her stomach but her practical sense had kicked in _hard _and wasn't about to take any crap from her hormones on this issue – magic fingers or no.

She shoved him back as hard as she could, finding her voice in one forceful rush.

"- oh for crying out loud, I'm serious, Jareth, stoppit and _listen_ –" He made a small, short sound like a growl deep in his throat as he raised his head to glare at her, not budging from over her otherwise, but Sarah glared right back – "I don't want us to be making little goblin babies here!!"

A very brief look of surprise registered on Jareth's face, before vanishing in a small chuckle, as his pose relaxed somewhat. "Ah. …Rest assured, Sarah, that is not my intent either."

"So?!" Sarah demanded, as he didn't go on.

"So," he replied easily, "you have no need to worry. …At least," he added, as he flashed her a feral grin, "not about _that_."

He bent his head to kiss her throat and a hand returned to toy at the lace of her bra. Sarah was speechless for a few seconds – not in reaction to his renewed attentions, but rather because of the realization that he actually thought the issue had been settled.

"Oh,_ so_ not good enough – "

Sarah pushed up and scrambled out from under him. "- What the hell is that supposed to mean!?"

Jareth fell back to his side as she scooted away from him. Much to Sarah's annoyance and distraction, he still managed to look very feline, very sexual, and very, very attractively half-naked, in spite of the dirty look he was giving her. He sighed in aggravation, and she tried to stop staring in hungry fascination at the way his shoulder muscles flexed under his pale skin, and concentrate on glaring at him.

"I can take several precautions against such matters – and anyway, truth to tell, it's highly unlikely such an outcome is even possible," Jareth stated, in a somewhat dismissive manner. A wolfish grin split his face as he went on, wicked promise heating his velvet voice and dancing in his peculiar eyes. "And while I mean you all _kinds_ of mischief tonight… on that account, you needn't trouble your pretty head."

He appeared entirely sure of himself and his explanation, now giving her an impatient, borderline condescending look. "It won't happen, Sarah. Trust me."

He_ had_ momentarily distracted her with that mischief comment, the look on his face causing a hot twinge between Sarah's legs. But then ... maybe it was that snooty expression of his or maybe it was the wrong words, or maybe it was both together that set Sarah's teeth on edge. She scowled at him.

"…You're kidding, right?" she replied flatly, crossing her arms on her chest.

Jareth cocked his head, appearing caught out between irritation and amusement. After a beat, the latter seemed to win out, as his lips stretched in a rakish grin again. With slow deliberation, as she watched him warily, he reached out to run one long-fingered hand over the small of her back, and her denim-clad thigh … to hook behind her knee and pull her towards him. In the wake of his sudden, tightly-controlled motion, Sarah found herself straddling his thighs, practically sitting in his lap, and her hands reflexively on his stomach for support. The initial squawk of protest died on her lips – it was hard to feel bullied when she was, effectively, pretty much on top of him.

In fact, her breath had caught in shock and her eyes half-closed, as for a few seconds it was hard to think or feel anything else than the way their bodies were now touching and what _was_ hard and very close and _ohmigod I'm practically topping the Goblin King holy __**fuck**_ - … but Jareth's breathy, taunting murmur brought her attention right back to him and the troublesome issue at hand.

"Don't you trust me, precious?"

Her heart jolted at the look on his face, as he stared up at her, all wicked knowledge and heated promise, and gut-twisting desire just one small smirk away from the surface. He slowly traced a possessive, teasing finger down her neck – and then over the swell of her breasts, just along the lace edging of her bra.

His drowning-dark gaze was both playful and terribly intent. "Not even here and now?"

His touch scorched her skin and made her shiver, but in spite of the blood singing hotly in her ears, Sarah stood – well, sat – her ground. "Nope," she breathed out, not flinching from his hypnotic, glittering eyes.

Jareth smiled, and it was vicious and pleased all at once. "Clever girl," he whispered, as his finger hooked in the center of her bra, a little ominously. "Clever, _wil_ful little girl …"

Heart pounding, Sarah scowled at him, and her hands that were resting on his taut stomach tightened. "Don't you '_little girl'_ me, Jareth – ..." she replied fiercely, as she dug her nails lightly into his sides, still matching his stare. "Not here and now."

Under her hands she felt him twitch, ever so slightly, saw his jaw clench. He held her determined gaze for a few breaths, looking for one heart-stopping instant as if he was about to suddenly yank her down on top of him and … _devour_ her… – but then,

"… Point taken," Jareth murmured, in a sultry velvet voice. He let go, trailing his hand with goosebump-inducing lightness over her side to rest on her hip, and some of the dangerous tension seemed to leave his pale body. He smiled at her – canines showing – before he pointedly looked her over, hooded eyes gleaming, and his gaze lingering on her chest.

How he managed to ratchet up the sexual tension in the room yet another notch, Sarah simply could not comprehend. The way he was leaning back and just _looking_ up at her, his wintry hair fanned out on the dark red pillow, and his pendant one warm glint of bronze on his smooth, smooth chest … He looked her every sinful fantasy incarnate, and his … calculating … expression was making her excruciatingly aware of exactly all the dizzying suggestions and possibilities of the moment, and how their bodies touched –his warm, hard stomach under her hands, her weight on him, and how they were both well on their way to naked, and flushed with desire – Her hands tightened on his flanks again, but the gesture was pure instinct this time, as she tried to get a grip on herself and not burst into flames on the spot as his scorching gaze returned to her face.

"I unmistakably – here and now – have an all grown-up, and half disrobed Sarah in my bed," he purred in a low, heated tone and his voice vibrated with unabashed desire as he relished the words. He brought one of her hands to his mouth, pulling her down slightly, and he kissed her fingers, never taking his eyes from hers, as he went on in a deliberate, forceful murmur, "…who kisses like a drowning woman, and moves under me like a flame and a promise, and who is considerably straining my –" he paused, and raised a meaningful eyebrow at her in a look that managed to be both accusing and suggestive, "… _patience_."

Sarah blinked, and bit her lip, and with considerable effort kept her eyes from flicking down along his torso.

"I've always admired your patience, Jareth."

Her voice was a shade too unnaturally neutral, though to her credit she almost managed to keep a straight face as she said it.

There was a very fraught beat of silence, before Jareth's grin widened, in a flash of teeth. "I should think so." But then his face set, eyes very intent, as his grasp on her hand tightened and he pulled her closer against him –

"… But you also really ought to remember," he rasped, a low growl in his throat, "how _that_ par_ti_cularly impertinent air of yours always makes me react very badly, princess." His free hand roughly caught her hair, bringing her face close to graze his teeth over her lips.

Sarah remembered all right, and her entire body shivered against him. He was beautiful and dangerous and unpredictable, and she might have escaped his vengeful Cleaners but he had caught up with her now all right.

She felt a hot pulse of desire in the pit of her gut, very close to where her bare stomach was pressed against his arousal, distractingly hard and warm even through his breeches. Very nearly chest to chest and skin to skin, it took all of Sarah's willpower to keep her concentration and not just wantonly collapse all over him.

She drew her head back, just an inch out of his reach, but let what she was fighting with show in her eyes and colour her voice as she looked down at him.

"Does it now," she teased in a husky murmur, smiling. "And how about this?"

She shook her hand free of his and she reached to cup his face, her hair spilling over him as she kissed him, hard.

For a moment her body was a tight arc above him, all intent and aggression in the press of her lips on his and just as fiercely unrelenting he pushed back – and then, deliberately, Sarah turned soft against him. She willingly offered her open mouth to his sharp teeth, running her tongue over his pointed incisives, pouring herself into the kiss and letting herself melt over his taut body, rigid and motionless under her.

It was a thrilling, strange sort of surrender, even as she was on top and leading him on this time, and draped all over him as she was, shifting _her_ weight made him twitch. He was all wary tension and hunger, and potential danger, and Sarah countered with a kiss that was pliant and sweet, and so very close – so intoxicatingly, so perilously close - to tenderness…

She caught the tail-end of a passing whisper of a thought as it skipped through the clamour of lust and determination in her mind –

… _my__ absolute favourite nightmare…_

The way she was kissing him was an act, a risky, terrible pretence on her part, but she very much feared she might forget that, or might find out that truth and trick mingled past any distinction. Smug satisfaction, and a twinge of guilt were fast fading from her mind, replaced by something strong and frightening and a pressure in her chest that she didn't dare name. She felt oddly certain that Jareth wouldn't fall for such an obvious deceit – so if he was reacting now, it was to the truth… Nothing… _nothing_ felt and tasted as perfectly right as kissing her erstwhile adversary with every last fibre of her being, or almost. She was making her own head spin, even as she gathered up her scraps of resolve, feeling him begin to soften in turn and return her kiss –

She moved then, lifting her lips away from his mouth to kiss at the corner of his jaw and down his neck, where she felt his quickened pulse, and she deeply breathed in the warm, indefinable yet utterly familiar and decidedly _nice_ scent of his skin. She set her teeth gently against the joint of his neck and shoulder and again he twitched under her attention – then arched his head back for herand Sarah felt a silent, exultant surge of triumph… and then guilt and a heavy, heavy regret as she steeled herself –

"Damnit, Jareth –" she swore softly, and with feeling, in a whisper against his skin –

- and she pushed herself away from him as hard and as fast as she could, rolling over and half stumbling out of the bed before he could react.

She stood there, breathing fast, watching him a bit worriedly. He'd started at her movement, and rolled over to his stomach, but he was now very still. Dangerously so.

"Ssssarah." His voice steamed and hissed like lava meeting ice, not turning to face her. "Exactly what. do you think. you're … _playing_ at…?!"

The stubborn, bloody-minded part of Sarah that usually took the reins when dealing with His Royal Arrogance was very tempted to respond by pointing out that just a little while ago he'd been the one smirking as he gleefully toyed with her and that turnabout was fair play. But the slightly wiser and more mature part of her cautioned against her usual arguing reflex this time.

Partly because she was trying for a sensible, _constructive_ discussion at this point, and partly because she was feeling a bit defensive about what had come over her when she'd been kissing him, and partly because of the way those fascinating shoulder muscles of his were now tightly bunched in barely controlled anger.

"I'm not," she replied, as firmly as she could make it without sounding deliberately provoking. "I'm very serious here. I'm _sorry_," and that was rather honest, "but we still have things to sort out here, because if you seriously think I'm going to believe that '_trust me, it won't happen'_ line, coming from any guy in this situation, Jareth – really, it's nothing personal…"

Jareth turned then, and stared after her – his eyes were narrowed and this time he looked really peeved.

" '…_nothing personal_'?" he ground out. "You are being downright insulting, Sarah, even by your high standards, or else _pain_fully slow on the uptake. I am _not_ one of those "any guys" of your acquaintance. _How_ have I failed to make that clear?"

Not waiting for an answer, he viciously muttered one word to himself. Sarah didn't recognize the language but could tell it was it was something pretty vehement. He drew in a long breath, glaring at her with a irritable kind of calculation – and he did look … strained ... – and then breathed out in an impatient sigh, and leaned back on his elbows to watch her with an expectant and rather characteristically condescending look.

"Well?" His voice was curt.

Sarah's mind had gone blank. She was distracted, now she'd stepped back and could appreciate the whole view, by the sight of him reclining like that … (_sprinkle it with glitter and eat your heart out, Calvin Klein)_… even with his annoyed expression … feline and pale and gold and bare-chested, and by how she could practically hear the collective voice of her hormones sobbing in frustration and cursing her for ending the wonderful feeling of being against that warm, lean body and bewailing what would have happened if she had _only_ kept kissing him … She shook her head, trying to clear the fog of lust from her brain.

" …Well what?"

Jareth's scowl had lessened, one amused eyebrow raised faintly, and the beginnings of a smirk playing on his lips, but his voice was still sardonic and clipped with impatience.

"Do enlighten me, Sarah. Since you _are_ here, in spite of all your misgivings, and that you do seem to know very well _why_ you are here, what happens next and even to some small yet highly interesting extent, how to go about these things, it would seem – I dare presume you did have a solution in mind? … One that you _will_ be prepared to trust?"

"Oh." She gathered her wits. "Yes …" and _Yes_, her body weighed in with eager agreement. _Yes, yes, yes. Get this sorted out and for pity's sake DO him. _

Dizzily she turned to rummage through her bag at the foot of the bed … her fingers found what she was seeking, and she couldn't meet his eyes as she straightened up and -

-_yep, this is officially the weirdest thing I could ever completely fail to imagine _–

- tossed a pair of condoms onto the bed next to him.

Her face felt hot as she stared at the little plastic packages on the dark red coverlet, a kind of fierce, reckless expectancy gripping her chest. She watched his fingers come into view, and slowly pick one up to examine it – she held back from looking up at his face, waiting for a moment first that he understand.

"Generally, I'd trust to these"

Her tone was not quite as flippant as she'd hoped, but mercifully didn't sound too horribly forced. She went on a bit hurriedly, trying to sum up a few decades of human contraceptive innovations in the simplest way possible. "I mean, I'm on the Pill – that's a chemical something or other that makes it very unlikely that I become pregnant… but you can see how those are an extra protection… um…" she trailed off –

_OK__, he's a clever boy,_ _please let him figure the mechanics out by himself because really I'm not sure I could do the banana demonstration here …_

…_are there even bananas in the Underground?_...

_-_** man**_, this is surreal – _

"… I see." His answer was very quiet – flat –

- and she realized it had all gone horribly wrong, but too late to stop herself as she'd raised her eyes to look at him full on, thankful he'd understood, with a mock-embarrassed smile –

- that faltered and vanished in a sickening twist of fear as she saw his chilly expression. Jareth held one of the so-crucial, small square wrappings between two fingers with the uttermost contempt. His eyes on her were hard and unpleasant, and it was like running smack into a brick wall.

His voice, when it came, was charged, and cruel.

"Do this sort of thing often, do you?"

Sarah stiffened. She genuinely felt the blood drain from her face– if she'd been any closer she would have slapped him then and there.

Sheer rage rose in a hot, bitter wave in her chest and throat, smothering the first pulse of pain and humiliation, as it clawed at her heart and strangled her voice.

"How dare you," she hissed, low and furious, her face very white. "How_ dare_ you?! – You call me insulting – you – You have no right to judge me, Goblin King – what I do or not is _none_ of your _fucking_ business! You have nothing to say about how I live my life – _my_ life – _nothing_ – you have no power and you have no prior claim on me – don't_ you_ _**dare**_ think to judge me!!"

Her voice rose in pitch and venom, until she had to stop before she choked, or screamed. She was way past noticing or caring about how Jareth had gone very still at her outburst. Wrenching her gaze from his, she smashed her hand violently against the bed post in her anger, then – _shit _– felt her eyes prickling with hot tears as she glared unseeing around the room. She seethed, her breaths coming fast and shallow, and her chest hurting.

_Damnit, I will _not_ let him make me feel ashamed – how _dare_ he…?! _

_I should've known. So much for _that_ pleasant daydream – that he not be such an evil sneering bastard son of a_ …

"Sarah," he called very softly.

Her hands clenched into fists, and she refused to look at him. "Call me a slut and be out with it, why don't you, Your Majesty," she suggested viciously, her voice now controlled and level but crackling with bitter anger "– and then you can take me right back home to my _average jerks_, although quite frankly you've just proved your point wonderfully: as far as hurtful assholes go, you quite '_outclass the competition',_ Goblin King – and God knows that's saying something…"

His voice was quiet, and cautious. "Sarah. I apologise for that."

" – You_ what…_?!" She couldn't prevent her head from swinging around to gape at him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed now, watching her, looking unusually tense.

"Did I hear that right – you apologised?"

There was a nerve-jangling silence between the two of them as she stared at him with an incredulous sneer, and he met her eyes with a conflicted mingling of cold pride and discomfort. Then Sarah laughed - a brittle sound, shaky with disbelief.

"Damn. You must really want to get into my pants."

In spite, perhaps, of himself, a faint smile twisted his lips. "Surely you had no doubts as to that," he answered almost lightly. The smirk vanished, as he looked at her with that same uncomfortable look. "But yes, Sarah, I would take that back."

Her upper lip curled. "Of course you do – because now you realize – "_whoops" _-_ clumsy_, was it, Jareth?" she snarled. He winced, as she flared up. "Well, Goblin King, I'm so sorry – no, wait, I'm _not_ – that you've just gone and screwed up your planned seduction, or is that manipulation of me here – since that's clearly the only thing you feel any concern or regret about – but guess what, your bad, and it's now the only thing you're going to _get_ to screw, up or otherwise – because sur-_prise__ fuck_ing surprise, Your Majesty, I _don't_ jump the bones of every Tom, Dick and jackass to show up on my doorstep!!"

Sarah's voice was jagged with rage and her own furious disappointment. She saw his hand tense convulsively against the bed cover. In a strained tone, not looking at her, he amended. "It was probably wrong of me, to say what I did."

"Oh,_'probably_'. You wear humility with such grace, Jareth, it's so _you_," she sneered angrily. "You're just so fucking suave and convincing, aren't you – I'm holding tightly on to the bedpost here, 'cause otherwise I'd just be leaping back into your arms…"

Jareth's eyes flashed, and narrowed. "You can hardly expect –" he began harshly – but then he stopped, closing his eyes, and made a visible effort at self-control, quite literally swallowing his pride before her condemning gaze. When he spoke again his tone was measured. He looked up at her, and behind his carefully controlled expression, he appeared very faintly, genuinely self-reproaching.

"I should not have said that. You were being … sensible, and I was petty."

Sarah was properly stunned at his words this time, surprise quenching her anger as suddenly and effectively as a strategic water balloon on a grass fire. Her eyes widened, but she kept silent.

Jareth dropped his gaze from her to the offending contraceptive still in his hand. He raised an assessing eyebrow, and his expression took on an ironic, thoughtful cast. "I was aware of the idea but I had not been… _confronted_ by these before," he commented, in a dry, deliberately casual tone. "Not a very elegant solution, but… obvious, and effective enough …"

He slowly put it down, and looked back up at her. His expression was tense but unchallenging, obviously waiting for her response.

Sarah suddenly felt utterly exhausted and emotionally drained, with only the last bitter dregs of her anger and hurt left behind. She wrapped her arms around her chest protectively, now feeling cold, and ridiculous, in her bra.

_How did this get so ugly so fast?_ she wondered brokenly._ Just minutes ago this was the most wonderful thing ever, and in spite of everything I was actually _liking_ him_…_I almost thought…_

"What am I supposed to believe here, Jareth?" She sighed and her breath caught in a sort of dry choked sob. "That you actually meant that apology, or that you're simply willing and capable of faking whatever remorse I need to see to placate me and just get me back …in your bed and under you?"

A brief pained look flashed over Jareth's face before he stared at her with some strange, strong emotion in his eyes that she could not define.

His lips moved and Sarah heard only, very faint, the last words.

"… so cruel," he'd breathed out.

He sighed, his careful expression back in place, and gave her a ghost of a smile, miles from his usual dark smirk. He gestured at the bed beside him, his eyes luminous and intent on her.

"I mean it. And as to your suspicions…Why don't you just come back to me here, regardless, to remove that issue from the equation?" he asked, in a warm, mildly challenging tone of voice.

_How obvious can you get?_ Sarah gave him a look, a glare of equal parts lingering hurt, scorn and black humour.

"The good old hands-on method of making up, is that it?" she asked dryly, not moving from where she stood.

His lips quirked up in a very small, wry smile of acknowledgment, but then he frowned slightly, his expression earnest again.

"… **Sarah**. Come here." His lilting voice was low and warm, compelling, and his dark eyes unusually soft and captivating … such a gentle, silk-clad command – and she so desperately wanted to fix things, to take that outstretched hand and go back to the warmth of his arms …

But she didn't move, staring at him with unflinching, shadowed eyes – and between their gazes that had turned tense there hummed and flickered the electric, unspoken contest of wills, back and forth, neither quite willing to truly push at the other and cause more hurt, as the silence grew heavy and expectant and fraught …

-_say it – don't make me demand it, neither of us wants me to _–

… then, "Please," he added quietly.

The little word felt like a kiss. She simply couldn't jeer at its sincerity or significance.

_Concession for concession_…

Not looking at him, she stepped mutely back to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, neither quite beside nor quite away from him. He didn't move. Sarah took a deep, uneven breath, and turned her head to face him, chin raised defiantly.

"Well?" she echoed him, her voice strained.

Jareth's expression was still carefully neutral, as he gave her one long look. His eyes were guarded, and they did not seem to seek to probe into hers either.

Oddly enough, meeting that cool gaze helped soothe Sarah's frayed nerves. But she held on tightly to a thin, bright thread of anger.

His eyes dropped away from her face to her lap, and his expression turned a shade more focused. Slowly, he reached out. Sarah's mind was afire with suspicion, but she could perceive neither threat nor trick, no deliberate aggression or seduction on his part. She willed herself to stay as neutral as he.

Jareth lightly took her hand – the one that, she realized now, hurt from her violent, angry gesture a minute ago. She watched in wary fascination as his bare fingers delicately moved over the ache at the side of her hand – unmarked at present but where she knew she would bruise. One of his hands loosely held her wrist, while she let him gently uncurl her fist with the other … and his fingertips brushed over the angry red crescents her nails had left in her palms. He traced the faintly stinging marks, his touch cool and light. He was otherwise utterly still.

She hazarded a swift glance up at his face, from under her protective curtain of dark hair. He looked absorbed and … frustrated, somehow; and his searching, thoughtful touch at her hand gave her a small shiver she did her best to hide from him.

_If he is this goo__d at empathetically sensing what hurts, what must it be like when he…_

She angrily silenced that thought. She'd steeled herself against what his touch could do to her, and she would not let herself be distracted – not by lust and not by tenderness, either.

Sarah pulled her hand away, a little sharply. She suspected he could and might want to heal her and she didn't want that. She needed the physical sting to echo her hurt pride, and he had no right to vanish the one without dealing with the other.

She stared stubbornly at the floor, edgily aware of Jareth sitting silently beside her.

He spoke then, his voice low.

"I had not meant for either of us to be hurt this time."

The quiet statement and the muted self-reproach in his tone made Sarah's heart jolt. And before she could think to question his meaning or his sincerity, she realized she'd half started to turn towards him, with the answer almost on her lips_ – Me neither._

… But then her mind threw up the image of his cold sneer just moments ago, and her head jerked back, the words changed.

"You didn't really _mean _it -" Her retort had a railing, vicious edge in spite of herself; she stopped.

_Not helping._

She took another deep breath, and tried to unwind. "Sorr – … Look, Jareth, I … I suppose I haven't a clue where, or what, or – when you come from …" she closed her eyes for a second, as her voice had quickened, with a waver of nervous laughter; then turned a hard, unhappy look at him "but… damnit, just because a girl can think ahead about having sex and take precautions doesn't make her some kind of …"

"I didn't call you anything like that, nor will I ever do so," he interrupted swiftly, in a harsh voice.

She made a bitter, derisive sound, looking away from him again. "You and your precious right words… – you certainly thought it loud and clear."

_And damn__ but it did hurt._

"Sarah …" His tone was mild, devoid of any mocking echoes. "I really don't think you know my mind as well as you keep claiming. Nor, it would appear, do I yours." His voice warmed slightly, with very faint, self-deprecating humour. "In all honesty, princess, though I should know better than to underestimate you again, I keep finding myself surprised and wrong-footed by your erratically strong sensible streak. So careful and so calculating in negotiating the terms of our … arrangement, tonight … - and then doing something so thoroughly witless as thinking to intimidate me in your underwear. Or still goading me when you are half naked and in my bed..."

Sarah could _hear_ the theatrically pained, incredulous expression in his voice on that last sentence. She couldn't prevent her slight nervous laugh, shooting him a wry glance. "Thanks, I think … but I don't see what that has anything to do with …"

Jareth interrupted her again, serious now. "Your cool-headedness about your … precautions surprised me, Sarah, and I'll admit I found the entire concept rather offensive, but far more than that –"

Without any warning, he moved suddenly, catching hold of her and rolling over to pin her beneath him

"I _knew_ it," she exclaimed furiously, glaring up at him and struggling to get away.

He didn't let her, his lower body holding her down, as he mingled his words with swift, forceful kisses, and his hands moving over her in spite of her struggles. "No you didn't – no you don't – because _I_ didn't know until I saw you standing there so prepared ... Sarah…" her name came through his teeth, at the side of her face, "It bothered me – it irritated me immensely – because _I_ was _not_ prepared to find out that I have a violent aversion to the idea of you discussing such matters with others before tonight – to the image of other hands on you – of your previous men – _boys_ …"

Sarah had stilled, heart pounding, but now she scowled unhappily and pushed at his shoulders again, without any more success at dislodging him. "Don't say it like that – like I … I don't… – damn you – there's only been…"

His hair brushed over her face, his lips at her temple. "Sssh. I know."

Jareth's unusually warm, soothing tone almost distracted her enough to obscure what he had said, for a second –

"…You_ what_?! You** know**?! You have been watching me…!"

He let her push him back at arms' length as she accused him furiously. Though if either had cared to note, Sarah's tone was indignant but not exactly surprised.

Jareth sighed. "No." But his eyes immediately flicked away. His expression wasn't really guilty, as such, but nor was it completely without a certain tension, and … petulance.

"… Not much," he added after a beat, and then there was an irrepressible, insolent hint of smugness playing about his lips again.

It was a smirk that said he'd chosen his moments. And all in all, rather enjoyed them.

"You …!" – '_pervy__ spying manipulative goddamned __**voyeur**__'_ Sarah wanted to yell – but then a sudden realization hit her even harder than her outrage, snuffing her voice, and her eyes went very wide and wondering as she stared up at him.

"… wait – you mean… You reacted like – you said that… because you were … - jealous?"

Her true, nervous curiosity completely altered the incredulous tone of the question she couldn't quite dare to make scoffing.

Jareth shot her a glance out of the corner of his eyes, then shrugged with artless grace. Avoiding her questioning gaze, he bent down over her again, burying his head at her neck, and answered in a clipped voice against her shoulder.

"Irked. Provoked. Put out."

He shifted slightly, and muttered into the pillow.

"Perhaps."

Sarah suddenly felt like she was falling through the disintegrating Escher room again.

_**What??!**_

_Oh no. Oh no no no nono nonononono no way._

Jareth was obviously trying to keep her from thinking too hard on what he'd just said though, and had resumed kissing at her throat and chest, hands moving over her – his caresses insistent, demanding. Her body was reacting but her mind was still reeling, miles away, ignoring his efforts.

_Jareth.__** Jareth.**_

_He…_

_He's…_

_(…doing strange and wonderful things across your décolleté), _Sarah's body tried to inform her.

_Oh my__. Oh, __**crap**_

_OK, so i__t's not like I hadn't ever suspected or guessed or wondered or worried or… - hoped…_

_No – forget that last one, not going there -_

_But –_

_So - _

Sarah's wide-eyed and frantic thinking was suddenly interrupted as Jareth rolled over, sitting up to roughly pull her close against his chest. His bare arms wrapped tightly around her, enfolding her in very solid, very… inescapable, warmth, and when he spoke, she felt his voice vibrate against her back. His hair tickled at her cheek as he bent to murmur in her ear.

"I cannot truthfully say that I _don't_ derive a great deal of satisfaction from finally seeing you speechless, Sarah, but this isn't quite the way I'd planned on going about achieving that effect."

That tense, teasing reminder helped bring her back all right. And Sarah's heart sped up as she found that her body had a great deal of distracting things to tell her on her return to the present moment, and that it was also very, very happy at being so decisively in his arms. She was finding it hard to deal with the contradictory and equally strong messages of sheer bliss and blind panic rushing through her at full tilt.

"I don't – I… You – Jareth …this is…- This isn't…"

His arms tightened. "Sarah" he said, in that lilting, distinct way that never failed to get her entire attention and make her go completely still. "Your next great speech of rejection will just have to keep until morning, sweetheart. _Perhaps_… Perhaps I have no power over you, and no prior claim …" he quoted quietly, "Be that as it may, you and I do have a deal, here and now, tonight – and you're not getting out of it."

His voice had gone from sarcastic to - strangely soft - to low and utterly firm on his final statement.

Then it dropped lower yet, his lips brushing against her ear, and setting Sarah's pulse racing again.

"_Must_ I bind your wrists to the bedpost and lick you 'til you are agreeable to this fact? ..."

Holding her as closely as he was, he couldn't possibly have missed her reaction. Sarah's mouth opened soundlessly a few times. Then she swallowed, and her face red, managed a strangled, carefully unchallenging, "… no."

"Hmm." Jareth sounded almost disappointed. "Really?"

_He's__doing it again! Being disturbing and sexy beyond all reason and evading stuff!!_ part of Sarah's mind tried to remind her. _Weren't we just talking about something important?!_

_**WHO CARES?!**_ The rest of Sarah bellowed.

He was so so so right. Everything else could wait until morning. The shouting and the fact that he could be a real hurtful jerk and their history and the huge, awkward possible significance of what had just passed between them and all the other weird shit. _Later,_ she promised herself. _Much, much later. Focus on the now. _

_Now is good, now is very, very, very good._

As if to give her further weight to her resolution his taunting voice was at her ear again. "You're actually agreeing with me, precious? ….Are you _quite_ sure you're not going to be stubborn about this?" he inquired, in the same tone of pleasant, hopeful menace.

Defying Jareth had certainly always held the appeal of danger, but the risks had never been _quite_ so … explicit.

Of course, Sarah had to admit she _was_ a little bit tempted. But she figured she'd rather keep some shreds of her dignity and decision-making capacities.

… At least just a little bit longer.

"We have to talk." Her voice was a little squeaky. She cringed in spite of herself to sense his determination gathering at her back, a heated resolve to convince her otherwise that she knew she didn't stand a chance against –

- until she added, decisively, "But not now."

The warm energies just behind her instantly went from dangerous to incredibly friendly, as Jareth gave a sort of very small sigh. Sarah felt herself turn boneless and willing in his embrace, which was suddenly, staggeringly, the most wonderful sensuous pleasure imaginable.

Eyes half closed, she twisted in his arms, to reach up and hungrily seek out his lips, closing the discussion and kissing him being the single most important things in the world right then. Jareth willingly obliged, his arms loosening around her and shifting, and his kiss was a thing of intoxicating, utter softness, and slowly gathering heat and demand. Tenderness tangled with impatience, and the both were lambent with desire as he alternately savoured and ravaged her mouth. Halfway through, the combination successfully flipped on a switch in Sarah. Her langour fled, to be replaced with a fierce driving hunger. Her arms around his neck tightened, clutching, and she gathered her body up beneath her, preparing to push him down and dear gods _take_ everything he'd been offering and teasing her with, and let all their endless antagonism finally play itself out this other way, the oldest dance …

Jareth's hands were at her bare waist now, as she turned on her knees to face him, not once breaking their kiss, and –

She felt a small something crinkle by her leg.

_- oh, __**fuck. **_

…

…_Why is doing the right thing always so bloody hard when Jareth is involved?!_

Heart in her throat, bottling her lust with a great deal of regret and frustration, Sarah sat back down on her heels. Jareth slowly drew away, his rapid glance flicking to what had distracted her, then back to watch her silently. He was obviously biting down on some serious exasperation, but kept his mouth clamped tightly shut this time - clamped as tightly as his hands on her waist.

Sarah gave him a questioning, almost apologetic look.

"… um. There's still…."

"Ridiculous, inappropriate and unnecessary," he cut her off.

Sarah almost laughed at the sulky irritation in his tone, and his look of miffed arrogance … except they really needed to sort this out.

_Fifteen minutes ago_ her body added impatiently.

"Look, Jareth, you're not being very… "

"Sarah," he sighed, trying – and failing – to sound patient. "You've run my Labyrinth, you barely turn a lash at the idea of my transforming into an owl or transporting us here … yet you don't believe, when I say I haven't the slightest interest in impregnating you, that my abilities could extend to such a small matter?" He gave her a reproachful look. "I thought you more … adaptable, princess."

Sarah hesitated. He sort of had a point there.

"Is not a small matter – and what you're saying doesn't exactly fit with all the tales of your lot dallying with mortal girls…" she said defensively.

"… 'My lot'?" Jareth repeated in a tone of mingled bafflement and amusement, and snorted. "An improvement on 'any guys,' I suppose, but truly – sweetheart… you were right – some _other_ time, we are going to have a very long discussion about some of your expectations of me."

He passed a weary hand over his face, then peered up at her, eyes glinting in calculation and exasperation.

"_Trust_ me, Sarah –" and there was some irony in that, before his voice dropped to a low, heated, seductive purr, as he drew her into his lap, arms cradling her, and giving her one of his best darkly promising, self-assured smirks. "I know exactly what I'm doing with you …and to you … here."

Sarah was stuck for an answer for a few seconds as she looked up at into that glinting-teeth, unnervingly and attractively sexual smile of his. Truthfully she didn't have the slightest doubt about what he was saying, but it wasn't exactly a reassuring thought either. Thrilling, yes, but not quite reassuring.

And damn but she liked being in his lap. Almost too much to keep holding out… but then she realized his latest distracting manoeuvre she could turn against him. Biting her lip, she rather deliberately wriggled a little against him. He hissed and his arms immediately tightened to hold her still. Sarah smirked in turn.

"Nice try, Jareth – but what about that 'whoops I must be out of practice' part earlier?" she challenged.

Though the tone was teasing, there was a slight edge to her question.

Jareth buried his face in the hair at her neck and gave a muffled sound that could have been a growl, a groan or a chuckle.

"You_ said_ you didn't believe that," he chided.

Sarah couldn't help a giggle at his almost petulant reproach. Jareth drew in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her hair, and went quite still for a moment. And then deliberately nibbled at her shoulder, and Sarah's grin disappeared in a gasp of surprise.

His voice turned rich and amused, teasing her. "Precious… surely you would not be so… _ungenerous_ as to withhold your pardon for a moment's emotion. …In my defense, if you recall, I was rather distracted at the time by a certain dark-haired vixen kissing me and tugging at my clothes like she desperately wanted us both naked and making frantic love that very instant – and more fool I, I actually believed her," he added dryly.

He pulled at a strand of her hair.

"Honestly, Sarah," he muttered.

And that was so typically him, Sarah had to smile … Pretentious and confident and taunting, with such a … visceral way of saying things, and suggesting images, that unfailingly stirred her – and so much fun to piss off.

Whatever their screwy rapport had been before things had turned hurtful, they were back to that odd flavour of 'normal' now. And so help her, she relished it.

_Could we actually work this out?_

_Here's to trying._

"Elegant excuses notwithstanding," she stated in as reasonable a tone as she could, "- Jareth, I'm sure you can understand that 'whoops' is NOT something I want to hear after … after said frantic love-making", she conceded, blushing a little.

Jareth chuckled, very low and quiet, then drew another heavy breath, chin on her shoulder.

"- Sarah –" the arm at her shoulders suddenly disappeared, and with a yelp of surprise she fell backwards – a foot, before he'd caught her again. He held her tipped over in his arms, leaning over her with a slightly amused, but mostly serious expression. "I get the point. But _enough_ of this. I'm not going to get you pregnant."

He spoke with warm certainty and his dark gaze no longer held any trace of evasion – in fact, Sarah was finding its intensity a little hard to withstand.

After a few seconds a slight smile tugged at his lips as if he couldn't help himself when he impishly added, "King's honour."

… Perhaps, Sarah thought as she looked up at him, heart pounding and wanting nothing more than them to be done talking and have those thin, soft, sardonic lips on hers again …

… perhaps some strict Aboveground principles didn't really apply in this twisted, unpredictable realm. Or to men-creatures with mismatched eyes and upswept eyebrows and fly-away hair who could catch your secret guilty dreams in crystal balls, whisk you away from your university grounds to their own bizarre, beautiful kingdom to make them come true, and whose kisses tasted of magic and dizzying desire. And who was, she realized, _still_ waiting for her full agreement even though his eyes just burned with the very evident urge to pin her down to the bed and do away with her every last scrap of clothing and resistance.

_He's the stuff of fairytales_, her mind screamed at her. _Your very own favourite fairytale_. _You've daydreamed about this man every other day since you were fifteen, he is beautiful and magic and hot sex and he wants you, he tastes oh so good, and going by what he's been doing so far you're looking at your wildest erotic fantasies about to become real and then some, and you're still trying to be SENSIBLE about this?!_

_He-LLO, Sar__ah Williams? When did you turn into your mother – fuck, no, when did I turn into __**Karen?**_

_This is __real and this is magic and this is __**Jareth**__, I'm in the Labyrinth and in its King's bed, not getting into trouble at a drunken frat party with some horny groper.__The usual rules SO do not apply_.

_And for fuck__'s sake already, I'm on the Pill anyway._

She tried to scowl. "All right – but so help me, Goblin King, if you screw up here, it's gonna be barn owl _shish kebab_, that I promi -"

"-_Done_."

"- mismmph...!!"

Jareth's mouth smothered hers as he practically pounced, bearing her down onto the bed the instant her acquiescence had passed her lips. And if Sarah was a little miffed, and a little amused by his disregard for her threat, and impatience, she very rapidly lost all critical distance from what was going on. This time, _this_ time Jareth seemed fiercely intent on not giving her the slightest chance of protesting or holding him off again, and his kiss was lustful and demanding and implacable.

His lips crushed hers as he ravaged her mouth, alternately lingering to draw her out in a deep slow ache, and fiercely aggressive. Sarah's heart was pounding almost painfully hard in her chest that was growing tight with the need for air, and her hands at his shoulders couldn't decide between clutching at him in mindless hunger and trying to push him away as she was almost struggling against him to breathe – Jareth finally relented for an instant and they both drew breath in a deep shuddering gasp… before hot lips just sprung together again, unthinking and magnetic and her hands at his shoulders were now resolutely pulling him down to her.

He was definitely taking no more chances, Sarah managed to think, before sensation and lust blew her mind, as his hand shot down between her legs and she arched wildly towards him. His shoulders pressed her bodily down, as his fingers touched her ever so lightly through her damp underwear, and then flexed - Sarah bit out a cry into the hot meeting of their mouths and Jareth growled in answer, and somehow his kiss turned wilder yet… He was being downright cavalier and domineering and, hell, cheating, but Sarah would have found she didn't give a damn, if she'd still been capable of thinking objectively. As it was, her last scraps of consciousness were flailing in the whirlwind of heat and desire as he… he just wouldn't stop kissing her, and she dizzily wondered how she was still meeting that pitiless assault on her mouth, why in spite of her jaw aching she was desperately hungry for more and welcoming every forceful thrust of his tongue…. her head was spinning and her body beginning to tremble taut as a harp string under his touch - and why had she somehow yet to spontaneously combust, because it could not be humanly possible to burn this hot and _want_ this bad…

Jareth finally freed her mouth, dragging a gasp from her tormented lips, only for his teeth to close about her shoulder - just not quite hard enough for her to worry at the predatory way he was holding her down – though she did feel a rush of deliciously fear-tinged desire as he grabbed at one of her hands to pin it by her head, while deft fingers were making short work of the button on her jeans. She had no voice to object with anyway, feeling the hard heat of him pressed up against her hip. Her free hand wound in his hair to tug a little reproachfully – or just hold on for dear life and sanity as he suddenly trailed a shockingly hot and wet tongue up along her neck, in the same instant he palmed her breast. Sarah gave a choked moan, and Jareth's response was a very low, uneven chuckle, rubbing the side of his face against hers like a great cat. His voice was rough and near harsh with need when he turned to mutter in her ear.

"I cannot believe you've been denying me for so long while actually here in my bed. You are a glorious, beautiful, absolute bloody nightmare, and I am going to make you _whimper_ for all that wasted time," he promised in a vehement undertone.

It wasn't a half-teasing threat she could try and brush off this time, it was statement of intent and unarguable prediction, one that just made Sarah shudder, and melt, as his lips claimed hers again; and so what if he teased and taunted her the whole time, now - so long as he just kept touching her… He'd freed her hand and she wrapped both arms tightly around his neck and shoulders, clinging to him and arching upwards to press against his hand on her chest, and his thigh between her legs … and past words and past caring about the danger and with all her defiance turned to molten desire, her only response was to kiss him back as passionately and as thoroughly as she could, flinging her reserves to the wind, and every last part of herself at him.

It felt like Jareth faltered, almost staggering above her, for just an instant - then his mouth, tongue - !! – teeth were at one breast, as he pulled her bra down partly and suckled fiercely on one nipple and Sarah cried out again, her fingers twisting in his hair, torn between flinching away and surging up to meet this new onslaught. Jareth growled again, his breath so _hot_ against her breast and his hands were pulling and clawing at the fabric of her jeans, tugging them down over her thighs – and whether or not he'd used magic he bared her legs in less time than she thought to be possible, and she shuddered to feel the cooler air on her skin contrasting with the unrelenting heat of him pressed against her, with only the insignificant barrier of her underwear between them – because somehow he was naked now and that realization and the feeling made Sarah slam her head backwards into the pillow – another cry came unstuck in her throat as his fingers hooked in the lace on her hips and yanked down. Jareth rippled above her, and under her hands, and between her thighs, his skin sliding warm and lithe against hers, all animal tension and intent she was willing, more than willing, desperate to meet – and the moan on her lips was his name, and his grasp at her shoulders tightened –

"Oh,_yess_," he bit out, with a growl warmer and wilder than mere triumph – and his mouth was on hers again, as he moved one hand down between them and then moved his hips somehow, and then he was _touching_ her, and hissing her name against the skin of her throat as she moved frantically against him, clinging to him as he shifted, between her legs – shifted and… and Sarah cried out as everything turned to heat and sensation and madness, and Jareth above her and all around her and within her – The world exploded in a rush of white hot desire and soft feathers; and Sarah fell - fell through the back of her skull like a shooting star, body arched and incandescent and seared through with sensation, and she thought wildly that she was surely going to fly to pieces as well – was going to shatter on impact – must… but Jareth was so tightly, hotly entangled with her that he was going to hurtle down to destruction too, so if he'd meant her undoing, if it was all a trap, it made no sense at all…

* * *

...Fade To Black. 

_**More Notes :** I hope that was somewhat worth the wait - feedback and reactions most appreciated. As in, craved.  
_

_And not to sound too preachy but yeah, I totally had a point there. Girls - unless the guy can produce a crystal on the spot - and even then... play safe.  
_

_: climbs off soapbox and goes into hiding : _

_ Over and out for a while. This will be continued in Part Deux : **Re-evaluation **_

_... later._


	9. Part deux The Morning After

**The Morning After The Night Before (or, One Hell of a Hangover)**

**

* * *

  
**

_Eheheh. This was a long time coming, wasn't it? Thanks to all those who kept the faith and kept nagging, to Subtilior for the beta-reading and encouragement, and to that whole deranged Goblin Court – Merc', Phuriedae, Anij, and Lixxle especially._

* * *

Sarah was suddenly wide awake, and blinking at an oddly glittery ceiling that, to her confusion, seemed to sway and shift slightly.

_whadda_ -?

_did I get drunk…?_

She registered that she felt incredibly comfortable, warm, and utterly limp, and that she was …

… um - naked

… in a pile of cushions

…

… in the pile of cushions in the pit at the centre of the Goblin King's bedchamber in the Castle Beyond the Goblin City and that was a hand resting on her bare thigh and that mess of golden white fluff over there was hair – _Jareth_'s hair, and that was _his_ hand on her, and he was asleep and it was morning and she – he – they – had just spent the whole night _– holyholyhells __I just spent the whole night having __**sex**__ with __**Jareth**__ and it was… _ – the whole night – …_**what time is it?!**_

Sarah's eyes darted to the high window, where one of the drapes was piled on the floor, bathed in the buttery sunshine. The sky was a very pale blue – it _looked_ early, but Sarah thought she knew enough about where she was not to trust to that.

Yet now that she was completely awake, Sarah didn't feel panicked. Wary, and a little tense, yes – but her reliable instincts were only poking, not screaming at her.

She figured she had – what– she allowed the feeling to shift, and settle, before focusing… something like half an hour's time left? Maybe a little more.

She let her head fall back with a slight smirk. She was pretty sure Jareth wasn't aware of that certain power of hers.

Because funnily enough, Sarah had developed an uncannily accurate sense of time. Her inner alarm clock was a minor legend in her dorm – Pat never seemed to be sure whether to boast or complain about it, but the two roommates were never (accidentally) late for morning lectures. No matter what crazy party they'd been to, or how late she'd been working on an essay: on those days she had class or a reason to get up, Sarah would unfailingly open her eyes minutes or seconds before the radio alarm clock went off.

(So if she ever slapped if off to sleep in and cut first class, it was always an entirely deliberate decision.)

She had first noticed, or at least Karen had noticed and pointed it out, that she became able to do this during her high school years. She hadn't been Little Miss Rise and Shine before that – far from it.

And like quite a few things in the teenage Sarah's life that had suddenly altered, that particular change could be traced back to one particular night: that of the first summer storm of her fifteenth summer.

(Besides several profound personal psychological insights and a strong respect and wariness for the power of words hastily spoken and fairytales, and a new fondness for her sibling – besides all these, she had inexplicably developed an 'allergy' to peaches. And a very suspicious mindset in regards to glitter. And a mild phobia of owls. And a strange fascination with men's costumes circa 1860, but at least that one wasn't so obvious to an outside observer.)

She usually tried to not think too hard about such things, but there was no denying that her time in the Underground had also left some tangible traces on her. Little things, like jammed lockers coming unstuck or necklaces untangling when she muttered imprecations at them, or her part of the flower bed at home coming up far more luxuriant than any other part of the garden (and often freely improvising rather than obediently producing the blooms announced on the seed packets, much to Karen's confusion and dismay.) The phenomena were rarely too obvious or worrisome, nothing she couldn't just shake her head over and attempt to ignore; only Sarah resignedly figured that if there were Geiger counters for magical radiation she'd probably set them off shrieking.

Her acute time-awareness, she supposed, was due to some sort of psycho-physical trauma from her desperate run against the clock, in the Labyrinth. Or else, by some quirk of impossibly accelerated evolution, her brain had adapted in that one night to deal with the Goblin King's challenge…

Either way, it was one side-effect of the Labyrinth that she was quite happy with and often profoundly grateful for. And it looked like it was going to save her ass now.

She wondered wryly whether Jareth would appreciate the irony.

Jareth…. Cautiously she shifted, angling her head to try and look over at him. And promptly blushed as the slight movement made her all of a sudden very aware of how her entire body was… well, not quite aching, but certainly felt … used. A whole rush of powerful physical memories came tumbling through her mind and made her skin tingle.

_Hoo boy._

Hot mouth on mouth, halted breathing, and warm bodies sliding together, slick with desire and pleasure…

Sarah shivered, beginning to feel a bit too aware of Jareth's hand still resting rather high up on her bare leg. She remembered, with lip-biting clarity and another shiver, what he could do to her with those nimble fingers. What he had _done_…

The first coming together had been… explosive. It had been passion and white heat and need like nothing she'd ever experienced – _kablooie_… - mindless, exultant, and out of all control. It had left them both boneless and utterly spent, Jareth collapsing beside her as if thrown ashore from a wild storm at sea. Sarah had lain, stunned and incapable of movement for what had felt like a long, semi-conscious time, her breathing rapid and shallow and her thoughts unfocused and skittering away from her – not entirely sure she'd even survived…

But then, in the deepening darkness of the room, she'd felt Jareth stir; and his arm that was lying across her middle drew her close, with a sense of intent that sent an instant warm prickle of energy and sudden alertness through her – alertness that grew a hundredfold as their bodies spooned, and her eyes widened to feel him _very_ awake _–_ _Holy cr - already? apparently there was something to that 'whole other league' claim of his…_ - and a sound had caught in her throat as his hand had moved to tilt her head back towards him and he'd whispered in her ear,

"Now… _payback_."

And after that… Sarah's face felt hot as she recalled the long, shifting, dizzy and glorious hours that had followed.

Like a great many twenty-so-year-olds, Sarah liked to think that she had a pretty good idea of what two people could get up to in bed – in theory at least, when it came to the sort of things discussed in the sex columns in Cosmo. Her own actual experience until that night had, well, covered the basics, and gone past "ow…" through "um…that's it?" to "Well, that was nice…ish…". She'd been with her second boyfriend for over four months, and he had been cautious and considerate enough – and she did read plenty of romance novels.... all of which left her with no genuinely horrid experiences, but a sort of resigned optimism and mentally crossed-fingers hope that there was, eventually, a lot more to this whole sex thing.

Last night had provided a very thorough and emphatic confirmation of that vague hope, and had gone from "oh, yum" through "Holy… -!" and then straight to _"! ! !"_

Her distracted smile at the memories turned to a very catty smirk. Obviously those savvy 'Sex and the City' girls had never heard of Goblin Kings. If she told Pat and her other girlfriends even half of what had happened in Jareth's bed (…and pile of cushions), they wouldn't believe her, or else go up in flames of furious silent envy on the spot.

Hell, by daylight, Sarah wasn't quite sure she even believed all that had happened herself.

She couldn't deny that Jareth had been _everything_ that he'd been hotly promising.

She hadn't denied him very much at all, last night.

And even now, as she looked over at him, his face half hidden in the pillows… He lay sprawled pale and loose-limbed close beside her, the fine muscles on his flank stretched taut under skin she now knew the warmth, the feel, the _taste_ of … and Sarah found her heart quickening as her body silently reminded her just how very, very much it had liked his. There was an unthinking temptation, tugging in the pit of her gut, to reach out and wind her fingers through that soft hair again, and move towards him - and then, she just knew, without his eyes opening, his lips would stretch in one of those soft, wicked smiles, and his hand on her thigh would trail upwards….and he'd murmur something like "good morning, precious"…

- she could imagine his teasing voice so clearly in her mind it jolted her out of her rapidly-turning-erotic reverie.

_W__hoa - wake up and smell the glitter, Sarah. You're not seriously thinking of snuggling up to the _Goblin King_. _

_No matter what you did to him – and let him do to you – last night._

…_Especially _after last night. He had ammunition enough against her as it was.

She had shocked herself by meeting him head-on, several times, with a drive that she scarcely understood, fighting and hungrily tangling with him, fire feeding fire, hearing him gasp… and those clashes had been – _glorious_…

But… over the whole of the night, well –

"_Such a fierce heart__…" - his breath on her sweat-drenched shoulder and the sound of a smile in his dark voice and her own small whimper at his lips on her throat, as he shifted against her – " – truly… - but you're no match for me, Sarah…"_

She swallowed rather sharply, remembering. …So sue her, she was only human. And whatever Jareth actually was, he was… Jareth had…had made her…

He had been tender, and ruthless, and so… _unrelenting_ –

Sarah was beginning to worry, and her eyes narrowed at the sleeping form beside her. She felt rather thoroughly… compromised.

It would be nice to think that the intimate darkness could keep its secrets, or that Jareth might possibly not be an utterly unscrupulous cad – _because he's been such a model of fair play and chivalry so far, ain't he?_ Sarah gritted her teeth – … since over the course of the night there had definitely been things said ( – _moaned, rather, or gasped, or sobbed, for instance, as her fingers knotted in the bedsheets and his mouth was…_ – she clamped down fiercely on the memory – ) … that His Royal Deviousness could easily use against her.

…_I need to call my lawyer._

Her mind was racing. Was "don't stop" (to take an example at random, and allowing for a few variations on the actual words, and no small number of fervent repetitions) grounds enough for him to pull a _'what's said is said'_ on her, and annul the ten-hour agreement or something?

…Was Jareth _that_ much of a sneaky rat bastard?...

Sarah's warm, contented feeling upon waking was evaporating very fast.

_Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. I am SO screwed. _

She sighed, and set her jaw grimly.

_Oh well. __No use in crying over spilt milk – nor mind-blowing orgasms…_

_But lose the fuzzies, girl, and concentrate. Your oh-so-yummy bedmate – that's _Jareth_. Remember? The Goblin King – arrogant, baby-threatening, non-human, capricious, condescending, devious, class-A cheater – and a sore loser who didn't even bother denying this was about revenge. And he _will _play that dirty._

Only it was just a little harder to summon the properly suspicious, antagonistic frame of mind when her adversary wasn't being all crossed-arms daunting and smirky in black leather, but, instead, was quite off his guard and asleep, angular features relaxed, and softened somewhat by the wisps of pale fine hair falling over his cheek – wisps that her fingers just itched to brush aside – and when her mind was still humming with the very fresh and vivid memories of clinging to him, moving with him, kissing him –

…_You're__ not being fair_, something deep inside her prodded. _You know there's more to this._

– hungry lips capturing hers like they could never get enough - her name murmured vibrant and low and warm, as ungloved hands tangled in her hair, and his _eyes_… –

_No_, Sarah countered fiercely, shaking her head and tearing her gaze away from Jareth's face. _I just want to believe there's more. Like that _lovely_ crystal ballroom? The only difference between that and now, besides the naked, is that he's wised up enough to not put a bloody great clock in the room. That's _all.

– … _but oh, if it wasn't just his power games – if any of last night was real – if he actually did care _–

_Stop_. Sarah drew in a slow, low breath and willed her heartbeat to stop reacting to that terrifying, thrilling, _stupid_ idea.

_That's a very very big "if", and, you know what? – I'll over-analyse this and second guess his motives only when I'm safely back Above. _

Both her far-too-enthusiastic libido and her ridiculously fluttery and sentimental little voice shut up and sobered as she considered her options. Exactly how was she going to achieve the Underground equivalent of sneaking out the back door and catching a cab home?

Waking Jareth up and demanding he send her back was probably not a very wise move while she was buck naked and a mere tug away from back in his arms, Sarah decided, strategically.

_Get dressed. Find clock. Deal with smug__, untrustworthy Goblin King. Get home, shower, and carry on with peaceful Goblin King-free life._

_Right._

It felt like a sound plan. Sarah was quite certain Jareth had his overly large and dramatic Clock of Impending Doom set up somewhere, counting down her minutes of safety. Whatever his nefarious plan regarding her actually _was_, he was obviously going to need that stage prop for his planned moment of gloating triumph. It was the way it was _done_, wasn't it? Ergo, there was a clock in the castle, and she was going to find it – in the throne room, if she recalled correctly – and make quite certain that she was still within the ten hours, before facing him again.

She was ninety percent sure of her estimate, and refusing to panic – but on the other hand, she couldn't quite be rid of a niggling doubt. This was the Labyrinth, after all, which made the Bermuda Triangle look like a poor soggy-Dorito-shaped joke – and if her inner clock hadn't set itself to Goblin City Central Time, then she was due to be facing serious trouble.

Serious Trouble still seemed fast asleep though, and didn't react as, holding her breath, she very carefully edged out from under his hand, then out of the pit of cushions. She gave herself a firm mental slap for feeling ever so slightly disappointed at that.

Still, Sarah couldn't prevent a faintly incredulous grin, looking from the bed (sheets in considerable disarray), to Jareth's sleeping form in the riot of coloured pillows, as she remembered exactly how they'd gotten from the former to the latter location…

* * *

She'd been lying on her side, Jareth's arm trapped under her, as her heartbeat gradually returned to normal; vaguely aware that she was smiling stupidly, but more strongly that she was feeling perfectly warm, tired, sated, and rather like purring. The room was dark, and her lazily wandering gaze landed on the drapes that covered the exit to the balcony. There was the faintest breath of night-scented air coming through a gap in the heavy fabrics, and a glimpse of star-speckled, deep, dark blue sky. Sarah's contented drowsiness vanished then, as she became deeply curious to see what the Labyrinth looked like by night.

Without a backwards glance at her unstirring bed mate, Sarah slipped off the bed and padded quietly over towards the arched opening.

She reached to push one of the thick drapes aside – and jumped as the whole thing suddenly fell down in a heap, with a sound like a sigh. Before she could worry about waking Jareth or feel too stupid, however, the night air embraced her and she was struck dumb with wonder at the sight before her.

The whole of the Labyrinth lay spread out below, in coils of gleaming pale silver, impossibly intricate and awe-inspiring, and utterly still. There were a few points of ruddy light in the darker mass of the higgledy piggledy houses of Goblin City close by, and she could make out the dusky shadow of the Fiery's Forest off to one side – but what caught her gaze and made her stare open-mouthed was the night sky overhead.

Stars, brighter and more numerous than she'd ever seen, even on camping weekends away from city haze, sprinkled in a glittering riot across the darkness; and the moon, hanging low and heavy and just not quite full yet, seeming far closer than it should rightfully appear. Sarah could practically feel the cool, soft silver light on her bare skin, as she stared at the impossibly huge almost-globe. She stood still, at the heart of this impossible, fantastical kingdom, and her mind swirled with a bemused mix of well-known images of astronauts on the rocky lunar surface, a wistful memory of a thread of song, and the odd thought that the goblins had somehow smudged Jareth's beautiful blue-white crystal orb with their grubby fingers.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when he spoke, from the nearby shadows beside her.

"Pretty Sarah, dressed in only starlight…"

His voice was very low, and sounded, perhaps, amused. She turned warily to watch him step out of the darkness to join her in the silver light – a small part of her remembering, then, how unnaturally silently he could move. Another, larger part desperately hoped she wasn't gaping too visibly, as the rest of her thoughts just marvelled, and her chest ached.

He was beautiful, bathed in moonlight. He was preternaturally, unfairly, painfully, break-your-heart beautiful, and Sarah quickly looked away from the more-than-human creature approaching her.

_Glamour__ magic, moonspell and danger – _

She held her breath, and there was no other sound in the room as he moved to stand just behind her. She could feel the warmth of him at her back, not a handspan away, and his low murmur unexpectedly close to the side of her neck made her flinch.

"I would have woven moon beams and wishes into white wings for you to fly with me – scattered stars and gems across your skin and kissed every one of them away…" His voice was taut silk, strangely cadenced and hypnotic. His fingers trailed down her forearms, making her shiver, before lightly circling her wrists, and gently tugging her against him. " – Princess – " he went on in a fraught whisper. Sarah stared wide-eyed at the sky, still not daring to breathe, her mind tangled in his words and her heart feeling as huge and heavy as the moon in her chest. "…the beautiful games we might have played…."

The hair-tickling, spiderweb brush of his words at her nape suddenly warmed to a short puff of laughter, and both his arms wound around her to clasp her closely against him. Sarah made a small sound of surprise. "However…" His voice now held a familiar dry edge, and she could hear the wicked grin in it, as one hand of his hands began travelling decisively south.

"… since you insisted on a measly ten hours truce, well – you have only yourself to blame if I cut a few corners."

Sarah squeaked. She'd meant to sound indignant, but the combination of Jareth's fingertips grazing over the very sensitive skin just on the inside of her hips and his tongue trailing over the shell of her ear very effectively flustered that plan.

The strange suspended moment of peril and possibilities had vanished just as abruptly as his dream-crystals did when he flicked his fingers, and Sarah was suddenly back on very familiar terrain. Not unenjoyable, but –

Damnit, it wasn't fair – couldn't she build up any resistance to the guy? Like, after what they'd just done together, twi – er, three times then, possibly, she was still a bit confused on that point – seriously, just his mouth on her nape was nothing – she ought to be capable of dealing with that much at least, and not shiver and instantly become hormonally incapacitated? Surely it wasn't going to be this easy for him each and every time?

She couldn't help the small moan that escaped her as Jareth's other hand made its caressing way upwards, over her collarbone to wrap very gently over her throat, tilting her head back and pinning her against him as his tongue went exploring the hollow of her shoulder. She could feel the heat of him against her back; she wanted to struggle away from him, she wanted to surrender to him – his warm hand at her hip was now sliding its slow, inevitable, slow, sensuous, slow, _slow_! way downwards, dipping along the inside of her thigh – she was jerked away from that sensation by his teeth closing about her shoulder – and then plunged back into overheated confusion, quivered, briefly, his fingers touched her, vanished…

Sarah's knees almost gave way. Jareth's hold tightened to hold her upright – and to the sound of a low chuckle she felt his warm breath travel up along her neck to her ear.

"Really, Sarah – as stirring as the image of you stretched out naked and pale in the moonlight may be, stone floors are cold and quite uncomfortable. _Someone'_s knees would invariably suffer."

Sarah exhaled in a shaky rush. She'd've laughed if she didn't feel so light-headed and feverish, and all she did was just cling to his shoulders as he picked her up smoothly. She vaguely wanted to hit him for spoiling the moment and yet absurdly he hadn't – even when he just tossed her into the pit of cushions, and she yelped and laughed after all – giggling like a schoolgirl. He paused for a minute, to look down at her, and she couldn't quite see his features as he stood there with the moonlight at his back; he gave that odd head tilt of his, and then she must have blinked because he was suddenly there, just above her, his face very close, amused and intent and raptor-like; he grinned, and kissed her back down into the shifting pile of pillows, and then, and well.

The cushion pit had been kind of fun, Sarah remembered, since the gathered pillows had a tendency to abruptly dislodge themselves and collapse beneath them at the most unexpected times. And obviously, after … quite some time, they had finally fallen asleep in there.

She had a sneaking suspicion he probably slept there more often than in his somehow rather formal bed, actually – burrowing into a mass of multi-coloured cushions and bits of cloth felt more like him. Half decadent Roman-emperor style and luxury, half messy bird's nest. Pretty fitting for Jareth, all in all.

Sarah didn't linger with her memories or speculations too long, however. She was on a deadline, and still being _buck naked in the middle of the Goblin King's bedroom_ was making her decidedly edgy.

* * *

…_Oh, you have __**got**__ to be kidding me._

Sarah stalked around the bed, barefoot and in a mounting fury.

_Of all the petty, aggravating, childish…__!_

No sign of her clothes, anywhere. Not by the bed, not on the bed, not under the bed… and any mild, possible, slight chance that this state of affairs was an innocent mishap, she crossed out viciously as she realized the overnight bag she'd brought along was also nowhere to be seen. So she hadn't quite noticed, or cared, about what he was doing with her clothes last night, so long as he was taking them off – but her bag, harmlessly sitting at the foot of the bed? This wasn't about accidental, heat-of-the-moment magic, this was deliberate sabotage.

Sarah didn't know whether to feel worried that her suspicions he was up to something were being confirmed, or just thoroughly annoyed and disbelieving at such a ridiculously low blow.

It seemed that the only article of clothing she could find in the room was Jareth's black shirt, last night's first casualty, tangled in the bed sheets and shimmering slightly in the morning light. _He must have missed it..._

Picking it up, she gave the fabric a vicious twist as she glared over towards the pit of cushions.

_Honestly_. She'd beaten his Labyrinth and now, he figured that hiding her clothes was enough to stop her? She felt insulted.

And increasingly pissed off, and all the more determined.

Jareth's shirt fell to mid-thigh on her, just barely, and gaped open widely in front. It was that or the bed sheet, however, and Sarah derived a very small measure of satisfaction from nicking something of his in return. Though she still felt, besides murderous – rather exposed.

_Great.__ Off to explore the castle without any underwear on. I just hope I don't run into any of his damned goblins in the corridors…_

… _Actually, _they_ had better hope they don't run into me. _ Modesty be damned, she was itching to kick _someone_'s butt this morning.

Sarah drew a deep, irate breath, and resolutely turned towards the door.

A slightly muffled heavy sigh from the pit of cushions made her freeze, halfway across the room.

"…And here I thought I had succeeded in completely exhausting you… You do wound my ego something dreadful, precious."

Jareth's warm, lazy drawl was obscenely morning-after-intimate and delicious. Sarah reacted with an instinctive shiver, a shiver that turned to anxiety – _shit, he's awake, now what_ – before it almost immediately solidified as a familiar hot anger.

She glared over and down at him, surreptitiously trying to tug the shirt down. He had neither moved nor turned towards her, still lying face-down and apparently quite comfortably half-buried in the cushions. She could just make out his grin.

"I guess I'm just a morning person, Jareth, unlike a certain shagged out owl," she answered sweetly.

A sharp snort. "Hardly."

She cut to the chase. "Jareth, where the hell are my clothes??"

"… Search me."

And Sarah stared in aggravation, then, in spite of herself, in utter fascination, as he rolled over and stretched like a cat, careless and voluptuous, his skin gloriously golden in the sunlight, and _gah_ – he was completely _naked_ – she looked away in a hurry, blushing, but not before she caught sight of his teasing smile and the glint of his eyes opening to watch her.

"How resourceful", he murmured, his voice betraying only amusement.

He clicked his tongue. "I see I was careless again. I really should be more careful of underestimating you, shouldn't I?…"

Sarah wasn't sure whether to interpret Jareth's arch comment as a veiled threat or as some sort of ironic compliment – but either way, he was irritating the heck out of her.

"_I_'ll say underestimated, Jareth - you have _got _to be kidding me. Were you really hoping I'd just sleep past the deadline?! And your back-up plan was to steal my clothes??" Sarah was torn between relieved incredulity and stung pride. "That's a new low, even for you – I mean, honestly!"

In the pit below her, Jareth had closed his eyes in apparent resignation.

"Curses, foiled again," he murmured.

There was no trace of chagrin or frustration in voice or his relaxed expression, his hands now folded behind his head. He looked quite at ease and confident -

Sarah's skin suddenly prickled in alarm at the sight of a faint smirk hovering at the corner of his lips. He was taking this _far_ too calmly. Sarah's suspicions skyrocketed. Mentally kicking herself for her overconfidence and wasting what could be crucial minutes arguing with him, she hurried over to the door that lead out of the bedchamber, and tugged urgently at the heavy bronze handle.

The door didn't budge.

She pulled again, harder _– bolted –_

– _**shit **__–__it was just that easy, he's locked me in - _

In a mounting panic she whirled around, fully expecting Jareth to be standing right behind her with a sinister smile…

He hadn't moved from where he lay. She thought she heard a very low chuckle.

"Try pushing, drama queen."

… _Evil, petty, smug, condescending __**bastard**_.

Sarah fumed, in furious embarrassment, and gave the door a vicious shove. Ponderous, yet oddly silent, the door swung slowly outwards. The corridor outside was dim and quiet; and behind her, just out of her sight in the pit of cushions, Jareth was still doing nothing more than radiating wordless infuriating amusement.

Sarah stepped half out of the room, the flagstones cool and rough underfoot, and turned to glare behind her.

"I hate you", she informed the pit of cushions with calm venom.

Jareth's smile was audible. "No you don't, you're just grumpy because it's far too early. Come back to bed."

Sarah snorted with loud derision, regretfully decided that the Goblin King's bedroom door was too heavy and slow to slam satisfactorily, and settled on furiously storming off down the corridor.

* * *

_Oh yes, they're off again._

_I'm posting this to prove that I'm still alive and working on this story, and also hopefully to prod myself into finishing the next couple of chapters, which I'm finding pretty delicate and tough going. Rar.  
_


	10. Part deux Now with extra goblins

_Aiiie. This was a long time coming, and rather short, and slightly different in tone, and… the next chapter is a toughie. Thanks to those who've not given up on me yet!_

_Many thanks to Lixxle who beta'd and worked some of her magic on this chapter. As should be fairly obvious._

* * *

***** **** ****

Fact one : The Goblin King was a dangerous, devious, complicated adversary with preternatural powers

Fact two : Jareth was a petty, infuriating, pain in the butt, Sarah thought viciously.

This was all his fault. She just knew it.

Because seriously, seriously, what were the odds that this one particular morning, half the tittering, dirty, grinning Goblins in the castle seemed to be gathered in the _one _corridor that lead to the throne room – she could see it, straight ahead and a few steps down through a stone archway, some thirty feet away - and were all clustered together, like small, faintly malevolent and rather novel-looking garden gnomes, and completely bunging it up to make way for...

"A chicken race?" Sarah repeated flatly.

The goblins all nodded excitedly. One pulled a finger from his left nostril with a wet popping sound and used it to point to a greasy string of sausages near Sarah's bare feet.

"That's the start," he said helpfully. "And that's the finish," he said, pointing to a rather pathetic strand of very old and chewed up Christmas tree tinsel at the end of the corridor. When he smiled, rather proudly, Sarah noticed bits of tinsel sticking out from between his yellow front teeth.

Sarah looked around at the chaos and crossed her arms over her chest. "And you just happen to be having the chicken race today," she said suspiciously.

They nodded simultaneously.

"Right this moment."

They nodded again.

"In this corridor."

Another collective nod. A too-large tin helmet that had a look of the common collander about it fell to the floor with a metallic boink.

"You wanna bet?" asked a squinty-eyed goblin.

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Bet?"

Squinty nodded. "You choose what chicken will win. Dere's chicken one, chicken two, chicken gaggle, chicken too many, chicken headache.."

A graduate of the King's College of Goblin Mathematics, obviously.

Sarah looked down at the chickens. Overall they seemed unaware that they were meant to be racing; one was asleep, two were making a break for the staircase, and another was pecking happily at a small puddle of ale, swaying rather unsteadily on her feet, and clucking what sounded suspiciously like a sea shanty. Only one seemed ready to race; she was eyeing the finish line intently while sharpening her beak on the stone floor.

In spite of her rather stressful predicament, Sarah's curiosity got the best of her.

"What about that one?" She said pointing to the intense, beak-sharpening chicken.

There was a collective shudder. "… Rosalinda"

A goblin reached over to pat Rosalinda on the head. She rewarded him by going for his jugular.

Sarah studiously ignored the carnage and turned to the goblins who weren't getting mauled by poultry. "So, you guys can actually tell them apart?"

Squinty squinted. "Tell what apart?"

Sarah blinked. "The er, chickens. So you know which one wins?"

The goblins exchanged perplexed looks. "The one that wins is the winner chicken," one pointed out, in a slow and careful tone.

It seemed a bit embarrassed on her account for being so very slow, and patted her rather consolingly on the ankle.

"I… right."

_I am getting talked _down to_ by knee-height creatures whose overall intelligence varies between that of mouldy cheese and selectively inbred guppies_, Sarah noted disbelievingly.

Obviously, it was going to be one of _those_ mornings.

Squinty tapped her on the knee. "Go on, bet. You's can win the choklit."

A grubby fist held up what, in another life, may had been a Mars Bar. It had been melted and re-melted an infinite number of times and was now curled up into the chocolate bar equivalent of the foetal position. Overall, it looked about as appetizing as a paperweight dipped in earwax, but the goblins cooed over it reverently. Sarah carefully filed away that piece of information. Should she ever want to ferment a palace revolt and turn Jareth's idiotic minions against him, a trip to the nearest candy store ought to be enough to guarantee her role in goblin history.

… _That's assuming I even get out of here in time, and he takes me back Above…_

"Or you can get mystery prize."

Sarah blinked and focused again on Squinty. He was holding up a large stripy sock that contained something that was wriggly and smelt like an odd combination of salmon and running shoes.

"What is it?" Curiously, Sarah poked the wriggly sock with her finger.

"AGHH!" yelled the contents of the sock. "Enough pokeypokey-edy wakka wakka, you freakin' ass monkey-.."

Sarah's eyes widened. "Hey! It's a-"

"—mystery prize," Squinty supplied helpfully.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "No, it's a—"

"MYSTERY PRIZE!" the goblins yelled, their hands over their ears.

Sarah willed herself calm, and reminded herself that she'd beaten the whole damn Labyrinth when she was fifteen. All she had to do was apply corkscrew goblin thinking to the situation.

And the throne room was one clear dash away, once she got past the goblins…

"Fine. Can I join in the race?"

"You?" asked Squinty incredulously.

"Yes."

There were frowning looks of confusion. Sarah was beginning to understand why she'd felt that Jareth had pestered her all the way through her run back in the day. Even her bratty fifteen-year-old self must have been a welcome change to this lot.

Squinty frowned. "This's chicken race."

Watching the goblin visibly struggle to make the logical connections was like watching a dull series on America's Funniest Home Videos: in fact, only very slightly funny, and painfully slow in reaching the blatantly inevitable conclusion.

A goblin with a face like an unfortunate root vegetable looked at her up and down. "…You ain't no chicken."

The goblins surrounded the obvious genius who had spoken up muttered and 'oohed', proud of their brilliant comrade and glad that someone had pinpointed the problem.

"Yeah!"

"Thas'right."

"No feathers."

"Not a chikkin."

"Notachikkin can't race in chicken race!!"

Sarah smiled, her most chicken-y smile. "Course I am! I'm black, see?" she said, plucking at Jareth's silky shirt. _Convenient, that…_

A few goblins cast thoughtful looks between her and the, indeed, dark-coloured birds currently wandering aimlessly over the flagstones.

The same skinny swede-faced goblin spoke up. "You're not a chicken, you're…" he waved vaguely in the universal sign for a female figure with serious balance problems.

Sarah discreetly but sharply kicked away one pudgy goblin whose confused scrutiny was bringing him far too close to her. Nothing like being peered up at by two dozen grubby critters, _most of them under two feet tall,_ to make a girl feel sassy and confident in no knickers.

Still… She tossed her head and folded her arms, giving the goblins her best snooty Goblin King impression.

"I'm a queen chicken. We look different. The Goblin King doesn't look like you, does he?"

That one seemed to have some effect.

One goblin nodded, convinced. "Goblin King's tall. Chikin Queen's tall."

That sealed it. The rest of the crowd nodded, accepting the logic.

That is, all except Turnip-face who gave her a suspicious squint.

"Really?"

Sarah was mildly impressed. Her eyes narrowed in a look that Toby would have recognized as "That's IT, young man, Playtime Is Over".

"Cluck. Cluck," she grated out.

If, before becoming the small retarded farm poultry familiar to mankind, the chicken had a wild, giant ancestor, that strutted fearlessly through the prehistoric jungles with razor-sharp beak and a murderous glint in its beady eye, and whose 'cluck' struck terror into the heart of our shaggy forefathers – that was the kind of chicken Sarah sounded like.

And a cranky one, at that.

The goblins, as a whole, backed away. The chicken they had designated as Rosalinda looked up, intrigued.

Sarah figured it was as good a chance as any.

Bursting into action, she jumped over the last few reluctant Goblins _( - oh gods I've just flashed them, haven't I? - )_ rushed through the startled chickens (narrowly avoiding getting her leg pecked by aforementioned Rosalinda) and dashed down the corridor.

There were sounds of panicked squawking, and goblin confusion going on behind her.

"Hey! You can't go yet!"

"You has to wait till we yell 'ready set chicken!'"

"I bets on queen chikin!!"

"Not fair!"

"Run, chikin queen! RUUUUUNNNNNN!"

This is _all _Jareth's fault, Sarah cursed mentally, in time to her running. And I am going to kill him.

****

She stumbled into the empty throne room. After the jabbering ruckus in the corridor, now out of earshot behind her, it was a haven of tranquil goblinless-ness. Dust drifted lazily through shafts of honeyed morning sunshine, coming in through odd cookie-cutter shape holes punched in the stone walls and ceiling. Threadbare cushions, sticks, crockery, bits of battered armour, fluff and black feathers… lay abandoned carelessly here and there in uneven piles, looking a bit forlorn. Sarah scanned the central pit and the queer hatches and niches and outcrops along the walls warily; but all in the tall room was quite still and silent. It seemed well and truly deserted. The thought brushed Sarah that this was perhaps a bit odd, but then she saw what she was looking for.

Still catching her breath after her reckless dash, she padded across the rough, dirty flagstones towards the stone diais and its bizarre throne. She'd only glimpsed it, the first time she'd come through the castle, on her hurried way to that crazy Escher room… Mounting the large stone steps, Sarah couldn't refrain from running a curious hand along the curved frame. Whatever creature had provided the single element of polished ivory that made up the back and arms of the Goblin King's throne was just yet another Labyrinthine mystery. As was the fact that His Highness didn't seem to have any cushions or padding on the stone seat – a fact that Sarah, having once sat through a three-hour theatre performance in a reconstructed Roman auditorium, figured was an extremely poor royal decision and, along with what she had just sampled of his subjects, probably went some way into explaining Jareth's general bad disposition.

The conjured mental vision of Jareth glowering on his throne made her a bit nervous, and reminded her of her very uncertain position at present. She left off her examination of the seat to finally look past the diais at the worn velvet drape on the wall behind it, and what she had caught sight of from across the room, in shadows and just visible below a fall of cloth: the large, dark bronze clock face…

The dry sound of hands slowly clapping rang out sharp and mocking in the stillness. Sarah jumped and whirled around.

"I'm terribly impressed, Sarah. Up all night, and still in top form and winning the annual chicken dash championships?"

Jareth smiled at her from across the empty room, leaning against the now-closed door to the corridor she'd arrived from.

"And congratulations on your sudden promotion to poultry royalty," he added amiably.

Standing stock still, in his far-too-revealing-on-her silk shirt, Sarah stared back at him, hands unconsciously curling into fists, half a dozen different hot emotions boiling in her.

Time-wise, she now knew she was safe, to her very great relief; although it had been a rather close call, that was one victory over him, which meant she could handle this confrontation equally …but then there was that infuriating smirk of his that drove her nuts, and there was that hot way "up all night" had sounded in his voice, and there was the fact she was now distractingly remembering what he was referring to, and the fact his shirt really was too short on her and he was clearly enjoying the view, and the fact that he was _such_ a taunting and aggravating _bas_tard and that it was all his fault that she was stranded half-naked and that she'd had to argue with goblins and race with chickens and to top it all off -

"…Like you didn't have __any_ _other shirts", she grated out furiously.

His pale hair glowing white where it caught the sunshine, Jareth grinned lazily, lounging in the doorway in his back heeled boots and black leggings, with his arms crossed, and his bronze pendant resting insolently on his otherwise bare chest.

"It just so happens I felt a particular desire for that one this morning."

Sarah's thoughts were running a swift riff along "_YUM."_ through "_ack, that is not playing fair…"_ and "_like he couldn't just snap his fingers – OOH,_ _that_provoking_aggravating_ son_of_a_...GAH!!"_.

She took a deep breath to master her exasperation. "Well, _I'_d like my own clothes back before I leave, please, Jareth."

"Before you leave, hmm." Jareth began to walk casually towards her, sparing the clock behind her a brief, dispassionate glance. Sarah watched him warily as he mounted the steps to join her up on the diais and, in one fluid movement, poured himself onto the throne. He looked far more comfortable than was right for someone sprawled on bare stone and bone, and a sense of ease and unquestioned power settled about him like any royal ermine cloak. Sarah found herself facing the lose-lose dilemna of stepping back and down a step away from him, or standing her ground, rather unnervingly close to Jareth's lanky, feline body on the seat and his… smile. She stubbornly chose the latter.

Jareth, somehow managing to slouch gracefully, nodded towards the clock and gave her a rather cool look.

"You still have to bear with me for a little while yet."

**** **** ****

* * *

_**AN. **Oh, they are off again. They are so off again._

_Cut scene by Lixxle I really had to share – I quote_ - Jareth bound (naked with very itchy rope), and dragged away (roughly...over pointy rocks and sharp appendage-damaging sticks) by fieries, yelling "My kingdom for a Snickers!".


	11. Part deux Negotiations

_Whoo-hoo, it's Christmas time._

_The earliest parts of this have been on my hard drive for more than two years. That is just ridiculous._

_Thanks to all of you people leaving completely hyperbolic comments and encouraging/nagging me into getting this somewhere. I doubt it'll live up to your expectations after all this time, but hey. It's only going stale with me worrying at it._

_Thanks, again, to **Subtilior** for being a wonderfully nitpicky and cheery beta. Also, to **Lixxle, Mercuralis **and **Phuriedae** for guilting me into promising that this would be updated by Christmas._

* * *

***

"You still have to bear with me for a little while yet."

His tone was quite conversational, but there was glint in his eyes that did nothing to reassure Sarah. She felt a very familiar edgy exasperation.

"Oh, what a pity. As if you had nothing to do with those goblins trying to delay me." She snorted. "Talk about déjà-vu…"

Jareth pursed his lips, tilting his head back to eye her appraisingly. "You know… I'm seeing distinct improvements on our last little confrontation." His tone was sardonic but his expression was completely approving.

Sarah was suddenly very hotly aware all over again of how one short, silky garment away from naked was _so_ not the best state in which to match wits with the Goblin King. Besides, she could swear the damn thing was deliberately clinging to her. It'd be just like anything of _his_…

His gaze was long and obvious as he studied the amount of leg she was currently showing, and he grinned as he looked up. There was far too much awareness, and knowing, too much recent and potential _sex_ in his mocking expression.

"So, are you implying you'd describe last night as "Through hardships unnumbered", Sarah?" he inquired in a slinky purr.

Jareth's voice on her name sounded like all the high points of the night in question smoothly rolled into two sensually overloaded syllables.

His weaponry of mass distraction was impressive. But Sarah was, if not immune, at least wise to his tactics.

"Don't even go there, Jareth, this is not about last night," she retorted sharply. "This is about right now and the bottom line being that you're still, _always_ trying to trick me – you were hoping I'd oversleep or forget all about the time, and lose - but you've failed, again, and your nasty little plan of revenge or whatever game you were playing at behind all your …seductions… well, you have to give it up, all right?" She heard herself hesitate slightly, angry suspicion faltering, and tried to sound reasonable – not uncertain and suddenly, oddly, a little pained. "No hard feelings - do you think you have it in you to lose fair and square, and just end this here…?"

The motes of dust dancing in the sunlight _froze_.

"And were we to part on good terms and bid one another a friendly adieu, what then, Sarah? Fond memories?..."

Icy venom laced the arch enquiry and a warning flared along Sarah's nerves. There was very, very little by way of a teasing or tempting veneer to the old enemy sitting enthroned before her now.

_Was this the guy I was … kissing, last night?..._

Jareth's eyes were hard and narrow, and he spoke in a low, quiet voice. "I have no intention of ending this, Sarah mine. And as you so forcefully point out, our time is not up… and therefore my _little game_ is not over."

He glanced carelessly over his shoulder at the clock again, and then his gaze was back on her, his eyes shadowed as he watched her from under his hair.

"Fifteen – no – thirteen minutes, I see. Isn't that just delightfully fitting." He gifted her with a thin smile. "I have a whole thirteen minutes yet, Sarah, before you can crow victory again."

Confused, and worried, and a little hurt, and having followed his cue to check the clock herself, Sarah was taken completely off guard when Jareth suddenly whipped out a hand towards her and caught her wrist, yanking her to him on the throne. She half-fell against him, hard, and instantly found herself pinioned by one lean arm around her waist, her free hand still caught in a tight grip. His hold on her was just a fraction less than bruising-painful, but it was above all frighteningly inescapable. Twisting against him instinctively, she froze when she felt his chin against her face and heard him speak in that same low and unnervingly dispassionate tone.

"Because, my pretty, vicious little thing, if I have failed to trick you…. it would be no hardship at all for me to simply hold you here, as the minutes slip by – struggle all you will, I am stronger than you – and perfectly willing to cheat, you may recall…" He punctuated that with a piano-trill of his fingers at her wrist that caused a tiny spark of the same sensation she'd felt when he'd 'glued' her to the door -- a highly effective reminder. Sarah tried to jerk away, but he was holding her too firmly for that, even without magic, and she had to quell a surge of pure animal panic at her entrapment. He moved; she felt his hair against her neck, close to her ear, and shivered.

"What could you do about that, hmm? Nothing but curse me as unfair and cruel, which I daresay I've survived this far…"

_No – no – no…_

"Let me go, Jareth, you - You have no power…" Sarah choked out, desperately.

"Here, in the center of my realm, where you came of your own free will?" Jareth's clipped words cut her off. "Oh, Sarah mine, I very much do."

His tone wasn't even gloating, but terrifyingly matter-of-fact. Sarah's heart was in her throat, loud and huge and hurting.

"If I were all the villain and the bastard you paint me…" he murmured. "I could bind you by magic or hold you by force, sweet, and watch your eyes widen and smell your fear grow as your precious time ticks away…. And then, ah well.. ." A very low, hot breath of laughter by her ear, tumbling down along her neck, clinging to her skin. His hands on her shifted, and when he went on his voice had also changed, warmer, tighter. Sarah felt a familiar, horribly unwanted response spread like wildfire over her skin. "Or maybe, maybe, rather than fear… Maybe I could hold you here against me, Sarah, and use all that I have learnt last night – those things we both remember – you do remember, don't you? because, oh, I do - the way I touched you, and the things that make you mewl… _my_ Sarah…"

His breath was hot by the side of her face. His fingers were wandering now, insolent, unwelcome, but _irresistible_, and her body was wracked with an instinctive shudder.

"No…" she tried again.

"No? _Liar._" His tongue flicked at her ear and she shuddered again, uncontrollably. "Liar, liar, body on fire…"

The thin silken shirt was no defence at all against the touch of his leather gloves, and his teasing words worked their own burning, befuddling spell - and she knew with a fearful certainty that the absolute last thing to do here was try and struggle against him -

"How about that, my ever so strong-willed Sarah?" he went on in an insidious whisper. "Wouldn't _that_ be an interesting little game… Do you think I have long enough to seduce you, right here, in spite of all your suspicions and struggling, until you have no mind for the time, and forget everything but my hands on you?

To have the minutes slip away, and you not care for your desperate desiring me– to have the clock strike, and you not hear it for your moans of pleasure - over the sound of your own voice _begging_ me?"

Sarah was caught between ice cold fear and a slow growing heat of desire – of shame, and craving. Her body was responding – how could it not, trapped against him and played by his cruelly skilful caresses – while, almost drowned out by the hot blood thundering in her ears, her mind cried out in despair and betrayal. She had been a fool, a weak sentimental fool to ever trust him, and it had _all _been a _lie_, and he was going to win, utterly, and lay her to waste…

Her throat seemed to have closed up, saving her from his hearing her voice either her fear or her arousal, but she knew he could sense her every quickened, ragged breath, if not her very heartbeat, with his predator's senses. And his fingers, their butterfly, scalding touches at her throat, over her chest – she couldn't think, she _had_ to think, outwit him, she, he, oh gods was that his mouth on her nape and _ah…_

"…Would that not be a fine revenge indeed?" Jareth whispered harshly.

He fell silent, then, and his hands stilled, and the fraught seconds seemed endless to the captive, quivering Sarah, her mouth dry and heart pounding, before he moved his lips back to her ear and spoke again.

"Tempting – very, very tempting," he uttered, low and intimate yet in a queerly dispassionate tone.

One heartbeat; and then, to Sarah's utter confusion and sudden relief, he lifted her off his lap to set her unceremoniously on her feet on front of him, and unhanded her to lean back on his throne.

"But here's the thing, Sarah - I'm not quite all that villainous and this isn't about revenge."

Whatever dangerous mood had come over him, it was gone without a trace. His face and tone were a familiar blend of mocking amusement and condescension, cool and contained and quite free of any burning darkness. "So instead of ravishing you on my throne - since I am so bloody generous, or else a fool and a glutton for verbal abuse – I suggest we attempt to re-evaluate our situation by daylight and in a civil manner." He raised a pointed eyebrow as Sarah, on wavering legs, goggled speechlessly at him.

"And my door wasn't locked. Now please bear that in mind – and stop being so damn shrill."

Sarah was shaky, in shock, relief and embarrassed fury. She narrowed her eyes at the slight curl of Jareth's lip that betrayed his smugness at her confusion _– bastard_ – and for a moment she was violently tempted – _very, very __**very **__tempted – _and nearly frayed enough to just fly off the handle and shriek and pummel him…

Yet, however sorely provoked, she was past the age of temper tantrums.

And while she was extremely grateful those had been empty threats_… or_ _perhaps, rejected options_… she couldn't repress a minute shiver – it had all been ex_treme_ly unnerving, and Jareth's abrupt mood switch left her once more very uncertain of who or what the hell she was dealing with.

_Hindbrain to Sarah__: he's playing _nice_._

She swallowed, willed her face calm, and took a deep breath.

"Don't ever do anything like that again."

Her words echoed, quiet, furious and almost firm, in the golden sunlit throne room.

There was a moment of pure, perilous silence from the ivory-and-dark-leather king as she defied him once more. And then Jareth's lips crooked in a thin, sly smile of approval.

"Brava." He allowed, softly. Then his face took on a haughty, if ever so slightly petty, cast as he pointed an accusatory finger at her. "_That _was for the t-shirt."

Incredulous, Sarah had the strangest flash of five-year-old Toby righteously ordering her to wash her hands before dinner or _no dessert._ It took her a moment to get over her disbelief and retort:

"_That_ was way out of order."

"Again with that ridiculous notion of yours that somewhere there's a rule book…" Jareth sniffed disdainfully. "Still," and he laced his hands together and stretched, before lazing back to slouch on the throne, grinning carelessly, "by my reckoning we're quits now. So, Sarah, what next?"

Sarah's mind, abruptly derailed from cursing at his infuriating smugness and generally still a little frazzled and adrenaline-high, cast around in confusion and drew a blank.

"Wha -?"

Jareth smiled, obviously enjoying himself and her blinking-at-incoming-headlights look enough to show some mercy. "Last night… You said we had to talk. I'm listening." As Sarah still struggled for words, he tipped his head to eye her provokingly.

"Or is it not so easy when you don't have some long-rehearsed line from that little red book of yours to trot out on cue?"

That helped. Jareth being snarky and provocative was familiar enough terrain for Sarah to get a grip on herself, even as she carefully realised there was, apparently, a non-confrontational outcome hesitantly wavering into view. That Jareth seemed to be prepared to actually engage in some sort of real dialogue was just going to have to outweigh her being aggravated by his needling.

"I guess not, Jareth. You've not stolen the baby, and though you're being as annoying as all hell you say you're not being the villain right now, and since you're _not _preternaturally molesting me I'll have to agree with that so… yeah, I guess I am a bit thrown," she admitted. "So. This isn't all about revenge, you say. So – so that's it - you got what you wanted, then?"

'…_Wham, bam, thank you ma'am?'_, she didn't quite dare add out loud.

She wasn't entirely sure whether that idea made her feel relieved or… disappointed…

His eyes glinted - he'd smiled a little wider at her concession. "Didn't you? I thought we'd – eventually - established that the wanting was quite definitely mutual, sweetheart." He was provoking her again, with that heated, I-know-what-you-taste-like, still-hungry look. "It certainly felt that way last night..."

Sarah had already fought – and lost – that battle. She threw her hands up in exasperated resignation.

"Argh. Ok, fine, you want to hear me say it, don't you? Last night was amazing. You were amazing. Thank you?" she added acidly.

She was pretty certain Jareth's ego needed no reassurance on that count. A purebred Persian cat who'd pulled a successful heist on a dairy farm couldn't possibly have looked smugger than he did that morning.

But then Jareth changed his look to one affecting reproach. "Must you sound so very sour about it?"

Sarah frowned, though she tried to keep her tone neutral. "I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, Jareth. And I'd feel a lot happier having this whole "was it good for you too" conversation safely back home, Above. You think we could do that? Tell you what, _I_'ll be all generous too, and make you coffee."

Her almost-friendly suggestion didn't seem to appeal. "If you wish to keep track of your footwear, princess, perhaps you shouldn't go about chucking it at innocent wildlife," Jareth deadpanned. "And no, thank you."

Which was a shame, because Sarah would have been really grateful for a caffeine boost just about then, and there was something ridiculously charming about the mental image of the Goblin King in the student hall kitchen sipping out of her Disneyland mug. She sighed irritably. "Nothing about you is remotely _innocent_, Jareth, and that definitely applies to your behaviour this morning. Revenge or not, you _are_ up to something," she countered levelly. "Play your hand already, Your Majesty, or just take me back. You gave your word on the ten hours thing…"

Jareth raised one gloved hand in objection. His eyes watched her very intently.

"No, Sarah – I said your stay here was extendable for as long as you liked," he corrected.

The memory rushed into Sarah's mind as she drew in a startled hiss of breath through her teeth.

"Oh, you double-crossing – well, I don't like, ok, so - "

"And I did give you my word," he interrupted flippantly, "and I shall repeat myself as you seem a bit slow-witted this morning – although I can't blame you, it's ridiculously early – that I would take you back when you so wished."

Sarah's thoughts were not slow. They were racing on an adrenaline-laced cocktail of worry and murderous rage.

"When I _wished_ – what - this is another of your wishes-have-consequences tricks, isn't it? With another thirteen hours thrown in the bargain?!" Sarah exclaimed angrily. "You and your bloody loopholes and double-dealing – No, I'm not _that_ slow, Jareth!"

Gods, she'd been an idiot – he and whatever his kind was were always expert at twisting bargains to their advantage…

"– No – _No,_" she ground out, vehemently – refusing to panic, or to play along with this new game of his, or to sound _shrill_. "- The original ten hours aren't up, and I'm not making any more stupid wishes you can twist on me," she stated forcefully.

Jareth raised a mocking eyebrow, quite untroubled by her accusations and upset. "Oh, because you're regretting the one that landed you here so very, very much?"

Somehow, he made it sound both offended and leering. It took quite an effort on Sarah's behalf to remain civil.

"Not _yet _- but it's not fully played out, is it - I don't trust you past that tenth hour," she retorted.

"That's a lie, you obviously don't trust me now either," Jareth pointed out critically. He crossed his legs and leaned back to fix her with a quizzical, amused look.

"Sarah – my sweet, suspicious, _sexy_ Sarah," he purred, emphasizing that last with another smirking, approving once-over, " - do tell me you're_ not _genuinely half expecting me to shriek with demented laughter and claim your soul or toss you in an oubliette as soon as the clock strikes, sweetheart… are you?"

A very small part of Sarah's mind shrivelled up and died out of sheer mortification.

Jareth obviously read the answer on her reddening face. He looked highly entertained. "You actually were, weren't you? Drama queen," he snickered.

Sarah's fists clenched in frustration, though what she really wanted to do was throttle the grinning smug bastard.

"You _wanted _me to think you might – you were acting like you were going to rape me or suck my blood just back there on your throne…!" she countered exasperatedly -

- and the recollection made her shudder in spite of herself. She closed her eyes and drew a long, calming breath to master both her jittery nerves and her irritation,

before shooting him an icy look.

"Fine, point to you – but you know what would really help this conversation get anywhere, is if you would stop acting completely _bi-polar_, Jareth," she bit out with snippy politeness. "And that's 'Chicken Queen' to you, buster."

Jareth sniffed. "I'm sure you mean to say fascinating and thrillingly unpredictable," he preened, "Your _Majesty_."

"I _mean _slippery and aggravating and as twisted as your damn Labyrinth," she shot back. "You're up to something – I don't know what you're after this time, Goblin King, but – "

"It's Jareth, pet, you had it right last night – each of the many times," – and again with that _filthy_ grin - "and why don't you just ask, nicely, instead of jumping to hasty conclusions and always assuming the very worst of my character?" he asked archly.

Sarah snorted. "Because for one thing you never give a straight answer - "

That seemed to amuse Jareth. "Some labyrinth master I'd be…"

"… and for another how am I supposed to believe anything you'd say?" she went on accusingly. "You've a very patchy record when it comes to honesty, your Majesty."

"Really?... " He shot her a rather hard look through narrowed eyes. Then he shrugged.

"Tell you what, Sarah. Why don't we assume that the same ten-hour compact that _you_ set such great store by also binds me to speaking the truth. In which case you have a whole ten minutes in which you shall just have to _try_ to believe what I tell you." He spoke in eminently reasonable, patient tone, backed up by the clock on the wall. As she glared suspiciously at him, he smirked impishly, and held up his hands.

"No tricks up my sleeves."

Sarah rolled her eyes, refusing to fall for _that _one and get caught out ogling his bare chest as the action of raising his arms and wriggling his fingers at her flexed the lean muscles on his torso and tightened the pale skin of his stomach, ever so faintly defining his abs below the glint of dark metal that was his pendant and…

_- __Damnit. _

"Aaaand I'm supposed to trust that coming from a guy who pulls snakes out of thin frikkin' air. Wonderful." She sighed. "I hardly have many options going here, do I? Fine, I'll try to believe you."

"Really. You do me great honour."

"I'd rather do something painful and permanently scarring," Sarah muttered between clenched teeth. "Alas. So. Goblin King Jareth." she went on, heavily. "You got me back in your kingdom and you bedded me, to the satisfaction of _all _concerned parties, and now – Now you say it's not about revenge, but you're definitely dancing away from any talk of taking me back according to the original schedule so exactly what the heck more do you _want_ out of all this?"

Jareth met her expectant, suspicious glare with a supercilious look and a provoking silence for a few moments, then –

"I'm not sure that qualifies as asked nicely, but I'll accord your self-control some merit," he drawled sarcastically.

He paused, resting his head on one arm, gaze seeming absent-mindedly on the ceiling.

"I want … my shirt back," he stated lightly, "to begin with, although if I am indeed compelled to be entirely honest then it would be more accurate to say that I rather badly want to take my shirt off you. I'm vaguely considering breakfast, but am far more keen on the idea of simply picking you up and heading straight back to my room for another few hours…" He straightened to fix her with a stare that made Sarah's stomach backflip. "And I _won't_ tell you every single thing I want once I get you back in my bed, because _that_ list would go on for quite some time and probably make your lovely green eyes a trifle wide." He grinned briefly, a flash of sharp teeth, before his whole expression became very intent. "But quintessentially, Sarah, what I really, really want here is for this to be the last wearisome argument we have about you not trusting me, and the first of many mornings after many, _many_ nights spent here together."

The careless intensity of Jareth's recital left Sarah reeling – but after a few stunned, warm seconds she caught on to his last words.

"Nuh-uh, Jareth, nope," she pointed an accusing finger at him, taking a step back. " – no matter how good it was last night, I'm not staying here - you're not abducting me to be your little plaything or …sex slave, or - whatever …"

Jareth flinched, or chuckled, it was hard to say. "Tch – you are _still_ dreadfully careless with words, Sarah." He grinned, his eyes dark and his voice smoky-silken and provoking, and looking every half-nude tight-fitted inch the decadent, demonic rake. "Why must you phrase it in the worst possible way and therefore make it sound so very wicked and appealing…?"

…_Aaaaand w__ho's not playing the villain now?_

"Appealing?! Jareth if you try to keep me here I swear I will make your life a living hell," Sarah vowed. "There is no way, _no way_, not for all your kinky leering and seducing and the silk sheets act that you are keeping me prisoner here."

Jareth gave her an intensely speculative look for a very disturbing moment longer than she deemed comfortable, then sighed and closed his eyes, acting careless and aloof once more.

"You're completely overreacting again, Sarah."

"Overreacting??" Sarah squawked. "You're talking about kidnapping me!"

He gave her a lopsided, teasing grin. "No, love, you're fantasizing out loud." He snickered at her death glare, and pre-empted her furious retort with a lazy gesture of his hand.

"Allow me to clarify, then. Naturally, I shall return you to your own life Above…" and Sarah scarcely had time to feel relieved at that before the dark sideways glance he shot her with made her insides go all hot-and-cold again, " … but I _want _this to be the first of many times I bring you here, for, perhaps an inevitable good old argument, but mainly and definitely for the very great pleasure and deep satisfaction of making intense, intoxicating, senseless love to you all night long and all over the castle. And I could do without you protesting and stubbornly resisting this each and every time, incidentally."

"…"

Sarah realized vaguely that she was probably looking a bit stupid, what with her mouth hanging open like that. Shutting it and dropping her eyes to the floor, she swallowed. She needed to weigh his words carefully, look for a catch…

Also, she needed a moment for the overheated gleeful wash of hormones to recede and let her think somewhat clearly.

She bit her lip. Besides a great relief that he really did mean to take her home, she felt a slight, wary irritation at the patronizing way he was outlining things – and a ridiculously teenage, girly giddiness : _He wants to see me again!_

_Admittedly just to have sex, but__… _

_- __wait, what do you mean _"just_"?! _her hormones flailed indignantly.

"… you _do…_?"

_Damn._

She hated how her voice had turned small and tremulous and wimpy, but that sneaky insecure-little-girl doubt had slipped out.

"Oh yes", Jareth replied quietly.

_That_ voice, that low velvet voice sounding so very fervent caused things in Sarah's chest _and_ stomach to twist in an alarmingly pleasant way.

She tried to stifle an irrepressible, stupid warm and mushy feeling — and her libidinous glee— as she looked back up at him.

"And… that's it?" she asked in as neutral a tone as she could.

"That's it," he confirmed coolly. "As you said last night, I'm not Prince Charming to hold out your fairytale happy ending, here. Besides," and now there was a familiar dark amusement colouring his critical tone. "I think it's clear that is hardly who or what _you _want, Sarah mine."

He'd gotten up, drew near her. His fingers curled in the fine fabric at her waist, she could feel their warmth; his voice, his nearness, his smile were all heat and hunger and wicked, biting fondness.

"Prince Charming couldn't handle you, pet."

But oh, he could, and oh, he had, and Sarah was taken off guard by the startlingly powerful rush of heat that suffused her chest and set her skin to humming in reaction to his proximity, the warmth and the scent of him, and she realized she wanted him to, wanted this ending, beginning, whatever, him, again, now, and later, and right there, and _badly_…

_That's good, don't wanna be a p__rincess, can I lick your chest?_

_- Oh, gods, Sarah, snap out it. _

She blinked hard to shake herself out of her trance, glaring at his pendant. It was a distraction to be sure, resting as it did on said chest., but she knew that meeting his eyes would be far, far worse. She knew he'd see, sense, smell, _whatever_, exactly how strong an effect he was having on her, and if she saw that knowledge in his expression, hoo boy, they'd be on the floor doing it among the chicken feathers within minutes. Which was an increasing-by-the-second not-unattractive notion but for _Pete'_s sake…

_I really need to stop falling headfirst for that sexy villain act of his, this is ridiculous, __wow he wants to make love with me all night along again, and did he just imply I was hot stuff? Cool - My, his skin is close and warm and smells good... _

_**Argh**__._

She stepped back, raised her chin and willed her body to _behave_.

"So – so, that's it - no fairytale happily ever in the castle – and instead I get, what, a sordid affair with the dastardly Goblin King?"

_That did not sound _half _as disparaging as it should've_, Sarah lamented to herself. Probably because she found herself smiling as she said it.

"Sordid, sexual, ruthless, passionate, vicious, antagonistic, delicious…" The way Jareth spoke the words practically made Sarah jealous of how he had casual sex with every syllable. " …Yess."

The Goblin King mirrored her smile back at her, only his gleamed sharper.

"Do you want it, Sarah, or shall I tilt it _this_ way to cover my intent in _pretty words and glitter_?"

His voice was rough and taut and taunting and the challenge in it chilled and thrilled her to the core.

They matched hot unblinking stares silently for several long seconds. _Pretty words and glitter_, she'd scathingly called that first heart-breaking offer of his, and now, he was daring her to object…

"Yes…" she heard herself echo him - and Sarah was startled, if not entirely displeased, by how husky and warm her voice sounded. Jareth grinned, darkly triumphant and anticipatory, and started to step forward, and although Sarah felt her every cell react and strain towards him, she somehow managed to raise one hand, to place it lightly against his chest and keep him at arm's length. She briefly indulged in the sensory message from her fingertips, but kept her focus this time.

"Only, whoa, wait, let me get this straight" – because the devil was in the details and she suspected Jareth sometimes hung out with him there for drinks… – "You're proposing that we strike up some sort of … relationship, here… whereby I continue, Above, with my ordinary student life – except you pop up every now and again to whisk me off to the Castle for a repeat performance of last night – ok - and then, what, you'd poof me back home in time for first period?"

Put like that, it seemed pretty damn surreal – but Sarah could hardly hear her own incredulous words over a loud chorus of blissful and enthusiastic hallelujahs coming from a far less complicated part of her brain.

Wearing a small, enigmatic smile, Jareth melted away from under her fingers to stroll back to his throne, and resumed a decoratively draped pose.

"That seems to rather neatly if utterly inelegantly sum it up, yes…" He appeared thoughtful, then raised one finger. "Except for that part about repeat performances. Please credit me with more …_creativity_ than that."

She _almost_ blushed, but - "You mean I get to race the Fieries next time?" Sarah asked tartly.

Jareth grinned, unfazed. "Well, as of next time, pet, you ought to have no reason – nor inclination – to be sneaking out of my bed and wandering the Castle alone and undressed," he pointed out rather smugly and pervily.

Sarah's logical mind and her hormone-driven body had been having quite a few fall-outs of late over the matter of the Goblin King, but they unexpectedly found themselves agreeing that he made a good point there.

"Okay. Um. Ok, so I think I can more or less see what you have in mind for what happens between poofing me here and back home and I really haven't any objections to all _that_, but … do you think could you, say, give me any idea of the _frequency_ of these planned abductions of yours?"

He tutted at her in mock reproach. "Sarah, Sarah… Quality, not quantity…"

"Says the guy who whined and bitched about losing three hours," she shot back.

"Oh, you started that trend."

Sarah sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose in weary irritation. "Jareth, could you just answer the question _please_?"

The Goblin King's attention now seemed focused on smoothing out the leather over the back of his hands. "Hmm. Not really. By and large, when I am free to come to you," and he looked up at her, "– because believe it or not, I do have other claims on my time than watching a stubborn teenage girl trip her merrily destructive way through my Labyrinth, or attending to the sexual satisfaction of that same, slightly older girl, however enjoyable the latter may be…"

Sarah raised a cool eyebrow at his pervy smirk there; it was _such_ a given...

He went on casually. "… I suppose I'll _try_ to accommodate your own obligations should you have something terribly important planned – possibly. If I'm feeling generous. If I feel anything is more important than my desires for the evening, which isn't all that likely, really. But in an eggshell – when I can, and when I want." He smiled a sly, hungry fox's smile. "Which means you're going to need to think up some plausible excuse for frequently not sleeping in your own bed, sweetheart."

As Sarah blinked, he quirked a mocking eyebrow at her. "Does that sound acceptably… what was it now… honest and tangible?"

Now that he was giving her pause to think while graciously refraining from being all shirtless and lickable ten inches away from her, Sarah found her mind buzzing with all the implications.

_I should be mortally offended_, she thought vaguely. _It's like I'd be his kept woman or something. Like I was his mistress meeting him at some skuzzy hotel. I should be demanding he respect me more than that. I should be ashamed and revolted at the suggestion of such a blatantly sex-based relationship. _

Every virginal Barbara Cartland heroine she'd ever read of would blanch in shock and delicate horror.

… _Yeah, right_.

Because the idea of Jareth regularly showing up in her world in a dark swirl of glitter and arrogance with glint in his eye and a very clear plan for the evening ahead – well, her first reaction to the image was _not _to feel offended. Sarah could not deny that she definitely still wanted him, in a very primal and forceful way that didn't really care for propriety or finer sentiments. Hey, it was the twentieth century – well, where she came from, at least. Surely a girl who knew her own mind was allowed to have a little fun.

_Um, make that _lots_ of fun_, her memories of last night corrected conscientiously. _Seriously, girl._ _I mean, you do remember that one point when…_

_Um, do you _mind?, Sarah's higher thought processes intervened. _I'm in the middle of a fairly important think right now._

_What is there to _think_ about!? You dig him big-time, he wants more of you, it's not like you don't wind up dreaming about him almost every other night anyway, and also please notice he's still not wearing a shirt. _

Stifling a groan of exasperation, Sarah could only hope Jareth hadn't caught any of that inner exchange.

OK, so she had no objections to seeing ( - _doing! - _) Jareth again on a regular basis.

And she'd be quite the bitch to start complaining about his blunt proposition after she'd accused him of proffering only trickery and pretty lies…

Not that she didn't think Jareth could use honesty as just yet another trick. However, and white-hot sexual attraction aside, Sarah had to admit she also knew, deep down, in some stubborn, unreasonable way that there was more to all this. Logic, instinct, and an indefinable bittersweet fisted sensation in her chest all told her that the Goblin King wasn't merely looking out for a 'friends with benefits' type of arrangement.

Too much had nearly slipped last night, and too much was still unsaid yet very, very present in the air between them. He had painstakingly inched past her suspicions and defences, and coaxed and tricked and bullied and ultimately soothed her to bring about their current situation and make this suggestion. Whatever his elaborate strategy was ultimately aiming at, if he truthfully wasn't out for revenge, it couldn't possibly be just about getting some…

She couldn't help eyeing him, biting down on a smitten sigh. _Nope. No way Jareth has no other options than me._

Which meant… well, which was, in a roundabout way… good, right? Scary-good, but also.. thrilling-good.

The question "_**Why?**_" was twitching and burning on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it down. The thought that he might answer her honestly made her too nervous.

He had waltzed her around a soap bubble once before. She wished she knew what all his nimble footwork was for this time.

"I …There's got to be a catch to this. What's the small print?" she asked bluntly.

Jareth gave her an odd look, and she somehow suspected he saw through her prevarications. "Wherever did you acquire such a nasty suspicious mind, love? You were far more trusting in your tender and obnoxious youth."

"The term you're looking for is _'gullible', _or maybe_ 'too stupid to live'_, Jareth, and meeting you went a great way towards amending that. Also 'nothing is as it seems', a peach or two, and a thing Aboveground called auto insurance commercials." Sarah countered baldly.

"Sarah, I have several centuries more life experience to be jaded and drolly cynical about, so do spare me that angle," Jareth remarked coolly. "Now, are you _really,_ _so_ certain I'm up to some fiendishly dissimulated mischief, or are you, perchance, implying that my offer to you is so overwhelmingly marvellous and incommensurably generous that it seems too good to be true and that you simply cannot believe your luck nor find words to express your immense, humbled, ecstatic gratitude and appreciation and breathless desire for me?"

… Not that Jareth wasn't flirting with the truth and making it all hot and bothered, but there was _no way_ she was going to further feed his stupendously huge and infuriating ego and let him get away with wording it like that.

"Are you are, perchance, you fat-headed git, implying that basically you'd like to ask me out? Because if that is the case, you're being just a _little_ high-handed about it, Your Majesty," she pointed out.

"Yes," Jareth answered unconcernedly. "And?"

She narrowed her eyes at his air of careless arrogance, even though she realized he was acting this snooty just to provoke her.

"And I am not one of your subjects, Mister "oh I might be generous" and "when I feel like it" and "make it so" High and Mightiness," she retorted sweetly and sharply. "You sound like you are far too used to getting your royal way in everything."

Jareth brushed that one off, with a sigh and a mildly scornful look. "Really, Sarah. Do pick your battles," he chided dryly. "At the risk of tastelessly parroting myself, _'I ask for so little'_. Consider: all I'm requesting is… some of your time, a smidgeon of your consideration, and your willing participation in any number of interesting and mutually enjoyable nocturnal activities. And perhaps a slight lessening in your general hostility and stroppiness, but I'll not hold my breath on that one." His face hardened slightly. "Which, Sarah, in all _fairness_, is hardly more than what you have already freely given to those very, very average boys with whom you have been – _involved._"

_Oh__ great, _that_ card again._

"Ok, point taken," Sarah answered testily, "– but you know what, Jareth, I would really appreciate if you stopped referring to my past experiences as if I were a complete idiot for dating within my own _species."_

Jareth's lips twitched ever so slightly. "Hmm. My apologies," he allowed, regally. "Although, that does remind me of one important and utterly non-negotiable aspect of all this that I failed to specify."

Sarah's spine instinctively stiffened. "What?"

"About those sorry male specimens of your species. They _back. Off_."

There was something tense and subtly dangerous to the way Jareth's lean body was now posed on his throne that belied the casual way in which he went on. "I'll admit there's nothing binding in the arrangement I'm suggesting, but, for their own safety, for as long as we are… seeing one another, you had better discourage any other would-be suitors, sweetheart. I have a very nasty territorial streak."

Sarah could believe it, given how she could all but see his feathers bristle in the way he was glaring at her now.

It still gave her very strange thrills to think of the Goblin King feeling possessive of her, that same falling-through-floor feeling that had hit her when he'd half admitted to feeling jealousy. Jareth's not-so-subtle threat went to add itself to Sarah's "scary-good" column – which was beginning to shape itself into a very unnerving idea indeed. Nevertheless…

…_Macho idiot._

"A, SO not your territory," she retorted heatedly, "and B, thank you for once again insulting me, Jareth – even if you are starting to look like the most arrogant, demanding, bad-tempered, impractical, aggravating boyfriend ever, I wouldn't go and _cheat _on you."

_Wow. Did I really just call the Goblin King my boyfriend?_

_I must have really hit my head against the bedboard last night._

"Or do you really still think that just about anyone can just show up, pin me against the door to grope me a bit and I'll sleep with him?" she challenged angrily.

She disliked sounding so shrewish but the fact was, she still felt defensive on that point, after the flare-up over the condoms last night. And there was no quashing a small niggling fear, now, that she really shouldn't've put out on first date…if that was what this was becoming.

Jareth gave her a level look. "If you put up even half the fight you did last night, then I would have no fear anyone else could be bothered with all the trouble. But I suspect your particularly bitter and drawn-out resistance had more to do with who you were fighting against than anything else, did it not?" He paused meaningfully, then blinked and let out a short sigh. "Although, Sarah, I do not mean for you to take that as implying anything insulting to you. _No_, I do not think that of you, and I misspoke terribly last night."

He watched her very carefully, his face grave, before a familiar smirk reappeared. "As to our doorway negotiations, well… let's rather consider their satisfactory conclusion proof of my peerless skills of persuasion and irresistible sexual magnetism," he declared.

Sarah let that one pass. It was just not worth the aggro. "Naturally", she concurred dryly.

An odd expression flickered over Jareth's face, before he briefly inclined his head. "So, we are in agreement that I'm now the only one with the right and the skill to talk or otherwise trick you into bed."

That shot right over "kinda sweet" straight back to "annoying", and Sarah scowled.

"Are you sure I'm not superfluous here, Jareth? because you seem to be doing a fine job of making love to yourself!"

Jareth didn't rise to it, smiling faintly instead. "Believe it or not, it's not as satisfying. Are we agreed, Sarah?"

Again, Sarah could only roll her eyes. "Honestly. You twist _my_ moral standards into a self-flattering confirmation of your own awesomeness. Never mind," she sighed. "Agreed, then - " and as Jareth's smile widened in vindication _(and something else…?)_ she jabbed a warning finger at him "- and 'agreed' means just that, Jareth, this goes both ways. If you're the only guy I'm sleeping with, then you can damn well pay me the respect of trusting me on that and behave – no bogging or bullying or nightmare-stalking some guy just because he tries to chat me up, right? I mean…. Don't you dare be a psycho control freak boyfr… holy crap I can't believe I'm calling you my boyfriend. This is so far beyond surreal, I… Jareth, are you _serious?_!" Sarah blurted out a touch desperately

"Sarah…"

And even though he'd pulled the same trick on her just a few minutes ago and she ought to have been more wary, he took her hand in one swift, sudden movement. He held it almost carefully, this time, however, clasped in the warmth of his glove.

Caught in his eyes, trying very hard to read his thoughts, Sarah barely registered that she had moved forwards to sit beside him on the throne.

"Jareth, are you serious, or is this all just another game to you?

"I'm infrequently serious, Sarah, and of course it's a game; but that doesn't mean it isn't important."

***

* * *

_No promises, but I _think _I've got most of the next part, and something of a proper resolution, beaten out into shape. Allow for lots of polishing-up time, though._

_Go read 'Underside'!  
_


End file.
